


Love me at my darkest, hold me at my lowest

by OnlyOneWoman



Series: Unleash Me From My Darkness [2]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Aftercare, Age Play, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, BDSM, Baking, Bathing/Washing, Bottoming from the Top, But it's NOT a kink!, Canon Divergent Characters, Caretaking, Caring, Childhood Trauma, Cooking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Kink, Declarations Of Love, Diapers, Doctors & Physicians, Dom/sub, Dom/sub marriage, Domestic Discipline, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Eating Disorders, Embroidery, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Relief, Emotionally Repressed, Established Relationship, Exhaustion, Explicit Sexual Content, Feeding, Fever, Flashbacks, Fluff and Smut, Gardens & Gardening, Hand Jobs, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Knitting, Love, Lullabies, M/M, Masturbation in Bathroom, Mental Health Issues, Minor Characters that really aren't important just part of the surrounding, Nightmares, Non-Canon Relationship, Non-Canon all over the fucking place, Not Canon Compliant, Nursing, Obedience Kink, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Out of Character, Panic Attacks, Panties, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Punishment, Safe Sane and Consensual, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Smut, So Married, Spanking, Spanking Over The Knee, Stress Relief, Threesome - M/M/M, True Love, Vulnerability, binge eating, dominant!Chibs, it's all consensual, relationship in progress, submissive!Juice, versatile!Tully
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-06-27 18:16:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 70
Words: 94,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15690747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyOneWoman/pseuds/OnlyOneWoman
Summary: Well, since I clearly had way too fun in my new little Juice/Chibs/Tully sandbox and left them all hanging after their weekend together in "Well, I wear this fuckin’ mask because you cannot handle me" - and also have way too much sparetime to waste on this - I decided to start a sequal.Remember:1. It's AU and non-canon, meaning there is no Samcro, Ron Tully is neither a nazi nor a rapist and just about everything about SoA except for three characters, some of their show features and looks is changed. In other words: Don't look for anything canon here.2. I LOVE to make completely non-canon shit in fanfics. In fact, it's very rare for me to keep close to canon, and if you don't like the idea of using these characters outside canon stuff, you're hereby warned. I'm going so way off canon here, it's basically just me loving the idea of making porn out of hot men, okay?3. Comments that complaints about lacking canon content, or me turning Tully into a very non-nazi lover, will receive politely yet a bit annoyed answers.4. Always read the tags. ALWAYS. Also: not all tags will be added right away, but added as the story goes on.Have fun and remember: this is marked explicit for a reason.





	1. Juice

“What about this one?”  
“Huh? Oh, yeah, it’s nice.”  
“Hey, you’re not even looking!”  
  
Elle smacked his arm with her purse.  
  
“You’re a hopeless adviser, Juice.”  
”I did tell you I really hate shopping, you know.”  
“And yet you agreed to come.”  
”Yeah, but only because you wouldn’t shut up about it.”  
”Asshole.”  
”Bitch.”  
  
Juice grinned at his co-worker/friend. Going with her to the mall, trying to find her a party dress for a friend’s wedding, definitely wasn’t how he liked spending a Saturday morning, but they did have great coffee close-by and well, he needed the distraction. It was week four without his Daddies, thanks to not only their schedules, but to Papi catching a flu. He’d sounded terrible in the phone last Saturday and only mildly better during the week. Of course they had to cancel, they were lucky Daddy had escaped the virus and the idea of Juice catching it an make four weeks at least five, wasn’t the least tempting.  
  
Keeping himself busy was key, Juice knew that, and that’s why he’d allowed Elle to drag him out on afterworks, coffees, movies and now he was desperate enough to agree on shopping for clothes.  
  
“What do you think of this?”  
  
Juice actually made an effort to really look this time, eyeballing the bright yellow coctaildress. He wasn’t the least interested in clothes but he could immedately see that Elle, who has half-black just as Juice, only with slightly darker skin tone, would probably look awesome in it.  
  
“You should try it on.”  
“Yeah?”  
”I think it’s just your color, actually.”  
”Are you saying this just to get faster to the coffee?”  
”The fastest way would be for you to find something you like, right?”  
  
He grinned at her again, knowing she was soft for it, and she rolled her eyes but grabbed the dress, huffing at the size tag.  
  
“You know, for a man claiming to hate shopping, you’re really good at picking the right size.”  
“I’m magic, blondie.”  
“Asshole.”  
  
She gave Juice her purse and he followed her to the dressing rooms. He’d started calling her blondie merely to tease her a couple of years back, and it had stuck. They’d discussed their heritage on a drunken night out and as a revenge for claiming there was no way he could be half-black, Juice had turned to call her blondie as a petty revenge.  
  
As he waited for her to have a look at the dress, Juice tried to not think of his Daddies which, of course, meant he thought of them. Telling them how he felt had been difficult since Papi caught the stupid virus, because Juice knew that Daddy couldn’t run between them when Papi needed his help the most. The situation hadn’t exactly improved since Elle had made it her mission in life to find Juice a girlfriend. She’d never went as far as actually trying to hook him up with someone, thank God, but she’d been far too good at pointing out what she saw as potential candidates in bars and parties, leaving Juice to try and worm his way out of it before it got too awkward.  
  
It was actually nice of her and Juice was willing to admit he’d not made himself clear at all about not being available, partly because he wanted to keep his Daddies a secret and because Elle was far too good at finding things out if she thought he was hiding things. And he could date, Daddy and Papi had no rule against that for their boy, but despite telling them and even having a laugh together from it, Juice really didn’t feel comfortable. He felt like a liar, for even making women think they stood a chance with a gay man, for letting them waste an evening on him not responding. He was a coward, simple as that.  
  
”How do I look?”  
  
Elle has come out from the stall and Juice managed a smile that he was pretty sure looked genuine.  
  
“Stunning, baby.”


	2. Ronea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronea hates being forced to stay in bed.

“Here’s yer brekkie, darlin’.”  
“Thank you, baby.”  
  
Ronea took the cup with it’s steaming, yellow content and took a careful sip. He’d lived on camomile tea, broth and crackers for almost a week now and the soft-boiled egg and half a piece of toast on the tray really didn’t wet his squeamish appetite this morning. He appreciated his husband’s effort, though, and took a small nibble of the toast and half a teaspoon with egg.  
  
Filip had brought himself some buttered toast and yoghurt to his egg, along with coffee and Ronea gave it a longing look, pulling the smell of coffee into his nose.  
  
“God, I could kill for a cup of coffee… Let me sniff yours.”  
  
His husband chuckled and brought his cup closer, waving some of the steam towards Ronea.  
  
“No closer, or I’ll get yer snot in it.”  
“This is torture, and I’m not snotty.”  
  
Ronea was well aware that he was pouting, but he missed his coffee and hated eating in bed, getting crumbs in the sheets that drove him mad. But his husband had made his decision and Ronea had no intention of disobeying. Filip wore a pair of his most worn-out jeans and an old black t-shirt today, hair a bit unruly as always and no socks. Ronea sipped on his tea.  
  
“You look tired, husband. What’s irking you?”  
  
Filip smiled.  
  
“Ye know… sometimes I still think I’ll be able to make ye not see that.”  
“See what?”  
“When I’m irked, as ye put it.”  
“Why?”  
  
His husband tucked a strain of Ronea’s hair behind his ear.  
  
“Because I hate it when ye worry ‘bout me.”  
“I’m not worried, baby. And you can’t tell me how to feel, you know.”  
“Wouldna want to, lovey. I just… well, ye need to rest an’ I wannae make sure ye’re doin’ jus’ that.”  
“I’ve been confined to my bed for over a week, Filip. If I get anymore rested, I’ll slip into a coma and you’ll get used to eat out.”  
“The freezer’s filled with yer food, lovey, I’ve hardly had any take-aways.”  
“That’s not what Bobby told me.”  
“Fucking traitor.”  
  
Ronea laughed at him because he wasn’t the least angry and it was pretty funny to remind his husband that bad eating habits was the kind of secrets Bobby would have no problems to tell Ronea about. Filip made an apologetic smile that was about as serious as his promises to keep to the speed limit while riding.  
  
“How ‘bout I’ll make it up to ye by getting ye some ice cream later?”  
“Which kind?”  
“Yer favourite that I’ll have to go to the bloody mall for. Would tha’ be a good apology?”  
“You do know I’m not actually mad at you, right?”  
“Aye.”  
  
Filip stroke his hair again.  
  
“But I also know tha’ since I cannae spank or fuck ye at the moment an’ ye’re banned from the kitchen as well, ye’re pretty miserable right now, lovey.”  
“Yeah, I guess… Gotta admit, I miss our baby boy too.”  
“Me too, Ronea.”  
”Maybe we should give him a call.”  
”Aye… Or I could while I get yer ice cream. Need anything else, darlin’?”  
“Well… Since I’ve been cooped up here like some fucking damsel in distress for a week, I’ve ran out of thread.”  
“Which ones?”  
  
Filip immediately brought up the small notepad he kept in his back pocket and put his reading glasses on. Ronea choked another cough and gave him the numbers for his colours.  
  
“Rayon Floss, as always. Talk to Brenda if you’e unsure.”  
”Of course, lovey.”  
”Oh, and please, don’t let her convince you to get anything else. I know how persuasive she is and I still feel bad about those ribbons I never used. Also, don’t forget to call Juice.”  
“Yes, ma’m.”  
“Watch it…”  
  
His teasing husband just kissed his hair and nodded at the egg.  
  
“Ye finish yer brekkie, darlin’, or ye’ll have a spanking waiting when ye’re back on yer feet again.”  
“You do realise, at this point, that’s not a threat but encouragement, right?”  
“Aye, I do, _ma’m_.”


	3. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daddy checks in on Juice midst cinnamon roll and latte.

He considered himself doing a pretty good job. Challenging his fears, or whatever Papi called it. Thinking of him now wasn’t helpful though, since it made Juice feel like two separate worlds came too close. He held the huge cinnamon roll in one hand, his latte in the other and eyes set on Elle.  
  
“You’re quiet today, Juice.”  
”I’m just tired.”  
”That secret girlfriend of yours worn you out, or what?”  
”No.”  
  
He blushed, could feel it and Elle gave him a smug smile.  
  
“I knew it! How long is it now? Half a year or something, right?”  
“Yeah, something like that.”  
  
Almost seven months, actually, and he’d never been parted from his Daddies for these many weeks in a row before. Sure, they’d spoken a lot on phone and Juice knew very well that Papi hadn’t planned on catching a flu, but it still made him feel uneasy and on top of it, this fucking cinnamoll roll was too big, too dry and with way too much cinnamon. Not like Papi’s, who were made with actual butter, small and juicy, especially when coming fresh from the oven with a glass of almond milk…  
  
Elle huffed.  
  
“Typical guys, never keeping track on dates. Bet you don’t even know her birthday.”  
“I do.”  
  
_Both of them, actually._ _Ha!_ Juice didn’t even try to hide his smug smile and was rewarded with a small kick on his leg.   
  
“You never tell me _anything_ about her. Or yourself, for that matter.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
The same second, Juice’s phone started ringing and he answered without looking at the display.  
  
“Yeah?”  
_“Juicboy?”  
_ “Oh… Hi… I…”  
  
Fuck. Daddy. Juice hadn’t looked at the display and he felt himself blush now, causing Elle to grin at him. Juice swallowed.  
  
“I’m…”  
_“I get it, lil’ one. Ye cannae talk freely now, right?”_  
”No.”  
_”Easy there, I jus’ wanted to check on ye.”_  
“Oh…Uhm…”  
_“Papi’s a lil’ better now, but still feverish an’ mad at me for makin’ him stay in bed, so I’m out to get’im some ice cream as a penance.”_  
  
Now Juice smiled, despite not being able to address his Daddy properly.  
  
“Yeah? So where are you?”  
_”Right now, I’m at the haberdashery, waiting to get his embroidery stuff.”_  
”Really?”  
_”Aye. An’ then I’m off to the mall for the ice cream.”_  
“Blueberry vanilla, right?”  
_”With vanilla pralines…”_  
”Pralines? But…”  
_”Yer Papi’s rule about  too much sweets doesn’t apply during flu season, lil’ one. Figure he needs something to cheer him up, since I cannae get’im his favourite boy.”  
_ “I probably wouldn’t catch it.”  
_“Not taking any risks, Juicyboy. Ye’re behaving yerself properly?”_  
“Yes, d-I try.”  
  
Damnit, it was way too easy to slip. Juice bit his lip and heard Daddy hum in the other end. _  
  
“Sorry, Juicy, didna’ mean to have ye say tha’.”_  
“Yeah, I know. S’okay.”  
_”We’ll talk tonight, alright?”_  
”Yeah. Yeah, absolutely.”  
_”Shall I give yer Papi a kiss from ye?”_  
”Always. You too.”  
_”Love ye, lil’ one.”_  
”Love you too.” _  
_  
When he’d finished the call, Elle looked at him with a face belonging to a pleased cat.  
  
“Blueberry vanilla and pralines, right?”  
”Stop it…”  
”Aaand a ‘love you too’…”  
“Seriously, Elle.”  
  
Juice groaned into his hands, flushed and so embarrassed he could barely look up. Elle sipped on her latte, still smiling although not as smug as before, but rather fascinated.  
  
“She must be _really_ special.”


	4. Filip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filip spoils his husband, who apparantly turns into a bit of a brat when he's ill.

On times like this, when laying asleep curled like a cat and with his hair in a complete mess over the pillow, his husband was bloody adorable. Filip sat down on his side of the bed, just watching Ronea. He looked so vulnerable, fragile even, despite the many tattoos and quite large frame. Living on booze, crackers and instant noodles hadn’t been an option for two decades and the man who’s cooking skills once had been limited to operating a toaster and can opener, had become nothing less but a domestic goddess. One that needed to rest more and remember that the world shouldn’t be a weight on his shoulders.  
  
Filip removed his cut and hoodie, for once not bothering with laying them on the chair since his baby wouldn’t notice them on the floor right now. He spooned his burning husband carefully and earned a small whine from it.  
  
“You’re cold, baby…”  
“Sorry, lovey.”  
  
He put his hands outside the duvet instead and Ronea relaxed again.  
  
“Got ye yer ice cream. An’ the yarn. Brenda says hello.”  
”Mhm… Thanks, baby.”  
“I think ye’re warmer again. Wannae check yer temperature, lovey.”  
“I’m fine…”  
“It wasn’t a suggestion, Ronea.”  
  
His husband was ill, yes, but that didn’t mean rules weren’t to be followed.  
  
“Really, Filip, I don’t need to…”  
  
Okay, now he was just being a brat and Filip took him very gently under his chin, turning him.  
  
“Ronea, look at me.”  
  
Jesus, he looked really tired, but he was looking now and seemed a little more awake. Filip looked firmly at him.  
  
“I’ll give ye some space since ye’re ill, lovey, but ye’re still supposed to obey yer husband and not being a brat for no reason.”  
“Yes, sir. I… I’m sorry, Filip, I did not mean to be rude.”  
“I know, my love, but ye were an’ since I cannae spank ye now, I’ll have to use the other thermometer instead.”  
  
The groan was a bit petulant, but at least his husband didn’t protest and Filip decided to give him some indulgence since he, after all, was pretty ill. Ronea obediently hauled his shorts down and made an effort to not whine as Filip slipped the thermometer inside. It wasn’t actually a punishment, not really, and Filip bent down to kiss his husband’s hair. It was, how ever, important that he didn’t allow Ronea to push too many boundaries. It wasn’t good for him and easily lead to him becoming both anxious and extremeley rude.  
  
Since spankings were out of the question for now, it was Filip’s responsibility to remind his husband of his role and behavior in order to keep the inevidable, post-poned spanking reasonable and to curb Ronea’s anxiety and sense of immensity. The thermometer beeped and Filip took it out.  
  
“102,4. Lovey, I’ll better get ye some ice cream right away.”  
“Sorry for being a brat, Filip.”  
  
He genuinly was and Filip kissed his nape and tucked the duvet around him.  
  
“Ye’re forgiven, darlin’. Don’ think about it anymore, alright? I know ye’re feeling miserable right now an’ as yer husband, I tell ye now to not obsess about it an’ trust me to know how to handle things. An’ right now, ye need ice cream, rest an’ another Advil. Tha’ clear, my love?”  
“Perfectly, sir.”  
  
Forgiveness, even for things as small as a bit of a moody temper, was so important to Ronea. He _needed_ it, needed to ask for it and hear the forgiveness being clearly given. There could be no doubts, because it made him feel scared. Filip headed down to the kitchen and scooped up ice cream in a dessert bowl. To love and care for a man like Ronea, was a fulltime job in a way. Not that Filip complained, far from it. He couldn’t think of a better, more important task in life than making sure his darling man felt loved, safe and happy.  
  
To be allowed to provide for him, make decisions – not all, of course, but a _lot_ – for him, look after and reward or chastise him depending on his needs, had been Filip’s absolute joy for more than twenty years now. Making Ronea feel safe, made _Filip_ feel safe in return, assuring him that he gave his husband what he needed. Too many people failed to realise that being a good spouse took a lot of effort, no matter if you had a more common relationship or a very specific one as Filip and Ronea.  
  
People who couldn’t control themselves, or had too much of a control issue, were very rarely good top material and Filip had seen proof of that many times over the years. Men – women too, but mostly men – who mistook their power for a right to set all the boundaries and break them whenever it suited their wishes and needs. Real tops knew that their primar function was to please and protect, never to make their sub feel unsafe or uncared for. Filip’s and Ronea’s marriage took it all a step further and although they knew couples who had a similar arrangement, they weren’t really close friends. This highly unusual form of relationship was, in many ways, a pretty lonely thing.  
  
Filip put the ice cream in the freezer, topped the bowl with a couple of pralines, wiped the countertop and rinsed the rag before returning upstairs. Ronea had actually made an effort to sit up and hold up the Advil, making sure Filip knew he would take it. Not that Filip doubted him or needed to check, his husband wasn’t a moron or a child, and they both knew it was more for Ronea’s benefit. He swallowed the pill and when he sat his eyes on the ice cream bowl and the small bag from the haberdashery, he smiled.  
  
“Good God, you’re the best husband ever. And you brought vanilla pralines _too_?!”  
  
Genuine happiness. Gratitude that wasn’t forced but came completely natural, not because it was some kind of rule, but simply because Filip had done something Ronea felt honestly grateful and happy about. Right now, the embroidery had to wait though, and Filip sat down on the bedside while Ronea tucked into the ice cream and pralines. He took a spoonful with a blissful expression on his face and Filip chuckled.  
  
“Ye look better already.”  
“You’re an angel… You’re not having any?”  
“Tha’s _yer_ favourite ice cream, lovey.”  
  
Filip had never been much of a ice cream person and this was all Ronea’s.  
  
“You called Juice?”  
“Aye. Actually, I saw him at the mall.”  
“You did?”  
“He had coffee with a friend, so…”  
  
He smirked and Ronea rose his eyebrows.  
  
“You watched him while talking on the phone, didn’t you?”  
“Well…”  
“Filip… You may be the best husband ever, but you’re also a horrible tease.”  
“No one’s perfect, lovey. He looked a lil’ stressed so I think we should Skype instead o’ just talkin’ on the phone tonight.”  
“Yeah, that would be good. For all of us.”  
“He tol’ me to give ye a kiss too.”  
  
He leaned in and pressed a light kiss on Ronea’s cheek. It was too warm but the ice cream and Advil would hopefully get the fever down soon. And a Skype call, Filip imagined, would soothe them all a bit. To be honest, he was a wee bit worried about his lil’ one.


	5. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juice is back home and tries to relax, but ends up in a really bad head space. TW: read the tags.

_You never tell me anything about her. Or yourself, for that matter._  
  
Juice sank down on his small balcony, lighting a joint. He’d felt his hands shaking, his heart speeding up ever since the mall and had been close to his limit when he finally parted from Elle. She was really nice and he’d had a good time with her, it wasn’t her fault that he felt like running away hiding all the time.  
  
Of course she was curious, why wouldn’t she? And since she wasn’t rude or snooping around, Juice really couldn’t blame her. A little innocent gossip was normal and since he was a quiet guy, it was completely normal that his private life would be brought up if people had a chance. He wasn’t even sure why he didn’t tell her he was gay. She was hardly homophobic, quite the contrary, and wouldn’t spread it around if he told her not to.  
  
The weed kicked in slowly, it was good stuff and better than alcohol to calm down. Daddy and Papi weren’t at all against it either, as long as it didn’t get out of hand. Papi would indulge sometimes while Daddy stuck to his scotch and occasional smoke.   
  
Being alone meant Juice could think as much about his Daddies as he wanted to and that, right now, was a greater relief than the weed. Keeping this busy was exhausting but the only way he knew of to deal with the sense of distance without turning into a fucking mess. He knew it was stupid, not to mention highly unfair to think that his Daddies would deliberately increase the distance. The ugly thoughts of a secret plan to slowly cut him off, remove him from their life, would easily take hold if he was alone for too long.  
  
Juice sucked some more on the joint and laid down. The balcony floor wasn’t exactly clean but he didn’t care right now. He’d put up screens to keep prying neighbors away and on the third floor, people couldn’t see him from the street.Curling into a ball with knees pressed to his chest helped a bit, but what he really needed was a proper spanking. He needed to confess every little misstep to Daddy, looking him in the eye and let all the shame and self-hatred out, have Daddy take care of and crush it. He needed to feel the man’s disappointment and sadness over his Juicyboy’s transgressions, embrace that moment of shame and humiliation.   
  
Of course, thinking of it didn’t exactly help curbing the need and Juice shoved his free hand down his pants, grabbing his already hardened cock. Behind closed eyes, he pictured Daddy pulling his lil’ one’s pants down, guiding him over his lap, completely calm and so safe. How he would make sure his boy laid steady and felt secure before starting with his hand. Juice tried to incite the memories of the burn, the pain he so desperately needed and still couldn’t tell why. But over Daddy’s lap, taking the spanking, he felt so… free. Just taking the punishment or stress treatment, whatever kind of spanking it was, meant giving himself over completely for a while.  
  
Daddy wasn’t the first person to spank him as an adult, but the few other men and women who’d been allowed to cross that line with Juice, hadn’t felt right. Whether it was over the knee, onto a wall, bent over a desk or even tied to a St. Andrew’s cross, it never gave him what he wanted. It had felt like too much of a game, too impersonal and as if it was someone else than Juice Ortiz who took the strikes. He’d never really been into the scene like his Daddies, only experimented a little while with a few occasional partners, something that hadn’t really been good for him.  
  
He didn’t crave a playmate, an occasional dominant lover, but someone to look after him even when the spanking and primary aftercare was done. That’s where Daddy and Papi came in, their absolute trust in each other that drove Juice almost mad from want. Daddy made the decisions, Papi obeyed and they were both so happy. Free to be themselves in full, not hiding parts of themselves in shame or fear. No misstep or humiliation was ever greater than the love, care and respect.  
  
Juice groaned as he remembered the diaper. Jesus Christ, he’d never felt so humiliated _in the right_ _way_ in his entire life. He was so hard now, wet too, relaxed from the weed and spurred on by his vivid imagination, he started panting, stripping his cock harder and faster. The thought of actually calling Daddy right now and ask for permission to come made him mewl but he couldn’t care less about the neighbors. He came hard, bucking up in his fist and as soon as he could, he curled back into a roll, hugging himself while pretending Papi holding him, talking soothingly to his boy.  
  
Imagining his Daddie’s voices, usually helped him to calm down, but tonight it didn’t help. The immediate sense of relaxation from the orgasm, was very shortlived and instead of spreading calm as it usually did, Juice just felt hollow and tense. His skin felt too tight, like he was about to burst like a revolting cyst or something. He wasn’t safe, he was alone out on his depressing balcony with no one to look after him. He could do _anything_ and no one would know…  
  
Sobbing, Juice scrambled to get inside and shut the door behind him. He remained on the floor, breathing jacked up far too fast and his chest hurt. He knew what he should do. He knew he should call Daddy and Papi immedately, not worrying about what to say or even forming words. He could, no _should_ , be weak with them, feel safe to give himself over with all the things he couldn’t control, all the things he hated about himself. His phone laid on the small coffee table but Juice didn’t take it.   
  
Instead he took to the bathroom, made a check to see that he didn’t look too bad to go outside, grabbed a hoodie and his wallet and left the apartment. He was speeding, he knew that, but the notion didn’t help at all. He noticed it, but it made no difference as he made it to the convenience store, grabbed a basket and walked like a determined zombie along the isles. He filled it mindlessly. Family packages of chips and ice cream, several packages of cookies and muffins, chocolate bars, bags of candy. By the register, he was too far gone in his spree to feel embarressment, hardly looking at the cashier, only a small sliver of gratitude for not having a line behind him.  
  
He paid for it, packed it in two plastic bags and hurried back home, his hoodie and gaze down the entire time. Once he was safely – if you could call it that – inside, Juice ditched his shoes and hoodie, locked the door and took to the coffee table with his bags. He put his phone on mute and turned it down on the small sidetable next to the couch where he wouldn’t see it. Then he unpacked the bags.  
  
It had been a long time since he’d binged now, but the anxiety was so strong, the urge took over. He felt out of himself, no limits, no safety, no restrictions to keep him safe and tipped over, giving in to the feeding frenzy.  
  
He opened the ice cream to have it melt, before starting on the muffins. The chaos had an order, ironically. First muffins, then cookies and ice cream. Chips came next and then the chocolate bars. Last of all the candy bags, like little colorful drops of sweetness and to wash it down: half a bottle of Baileys Mint Chocolate from the kitchen cupboard. The speed in which it happened, always shocked him somehow, but the more he ate, the more silent the angry, hateful thoughts became and when he was high on the sugar, fat and booze, filled to the point of bursting, they finally shut up.  
  
Juice crawled out to the bathroom. His stomach felt like it would just explode, unused to the amount of crap it had just been force fed with. Purging was hard too today, it didn’t come as easily as he’d anticipated and Juice angrily punched his stomach while forcing down his fingers deeper. Just as the binging had silenced the inner critique, the purging removed it. He kept going until he physically couldn’t get anything but bile, once again feeling his stomach empty.  
  
Then, finally, he could cry.


	6. Ronea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronea is pretty good at making his husband run errands for him. Not that Filip needed much persuasion this night.

“Well?”  
  
Filip shook his head and Ronea closed his eyes. His headache was getting worse in the evenings, his fever was still high and his baby boy not turning up for their scheduled Skype chat or answering his phone was definitely not helping.  
  
“Please, baby, go and check on him.”  
“Not leavin’ ye alone when ye’re both feverish _and_ worried, lovey. An’ ye know the contract doesn’t allow me, or ye, to intervene like tha’ when we’re not on scheduled time here.”  
“I know, but this is not like him, Filip. He’s answered immediately every single night for almost four weeks now, like clockwork. I’m not obsessing, love, I’m genuinly worried. Call it Papi intuition or just over the top mother-henning, but I’m begging you, as your husband and Juicy’s lover, to go and check on him.”  
“Yes, ma’m.”  
  
For once, Ronea didn’t disagree with the mock title, because he _was_ kinda bossy now. His husband leaned down to kiss his cheek, smiling softly.  
  
“Ye have _a lot_ of spanking to catch up on once ye’re back on yer feet, baby.”  
“I count on it, old man.”  
“One could almost think ye’re missing it.”  
“Like you wouldn’t believe, Filip. I’ll behave and stay in bed while you’re gone, I promise. And as long as my boy is okay, I’ll be a model husband for the rest of my sick days.”  
“Well, _I’m_ sure as hell counting on tha’, my love. Ye be a good lad now, not rushing around while I’m away.”  
“I promise.”  
“Good. I love ye.”  
“Love you too.”  
  
Filip planted another kiss on his hair and left. Once Ronea heard the door lock and the sound of his husband’s bike roaring, he felt instantly more relaxed and sank down in bed properly again. Having the flu was more than just a temporary ailment to Ronea. As a kid, his dad had been very suspicious whenever his wife or son fell ill and so Ronea had sometimes went to school or activities with fever while mom had been a complete drama queen about her own slightest cough.   
  
Being together with Aaron sure as hell hadn’t meant any increased care either. It had probably taken four or five years with Filip until Ronea was able to stop the urge to hide sickness and ailment from him. The fear of being a burden or seen as a attention seeker was very deep-seated. Being a victim of abuse, Ronea knew a lot about keeping vulnerability hidden.   
  
He wasn’t actually obsessing over Juice not answering per se. Battery uncharging, bad reception or simply making an errend that required the phone to be on silent certainly wasn’t uncommon and it had happened to his boy and his husband sometimes. The thing was, Juice didn’t miss appointments without giving a heads-up as soon as he could. It simply hadn’t happened, the boy needed that security more than anyone and Filip knew that too.  
  
Ronea took another Advil, swallowing it down with as much elderflower lemonade he could. His husband, God bless him, had brought a whole jug with it, complete with an entire load of ice. When Ronea laid down again, he was smiling a little. As someone who’d spent his entire childhood, teenage years and a couple of years into adulthood on pretty much constant alert, fear and awareness of his surroundings while looking for escapes, living about as many years in obediance and submissiveness, had been a blessing.  
  
He’d never been able to look after himself and others at the same time without ruining shit. Caring for himself was impossible unless Filip took charge. Without him, Ronea would fall apart, running here and there, exhausting himself and sooner or later burst in his seams while simoultaneously scaring people away. When Filip made the decisions and set the boundaries, somehow Ronea was able to be nice to and even like himself. By extention, it also made him capable of caring about others without ruining himself in the process.  
  
It made Ronea much calmer, just knowing that Filip had listened to him – not that he usually didn’t – and went to Juice. He was still worried, but it was way easier to handle now and since he couldn’t go back to sleep until he knew his baby boy was alright, he took up his embroidery, put his glasses on and threaded his needle.


	7. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daddy to the rescue.

“Juice? Juicyboy? Ye’re there, lad? T’is yer Daddy.”  
  
Juice whimpered. Not loud, he didn’t intend for Daddy to hear it. He’d managed to leave the bathroom a while ago, but no further than the hallway, where he’d been crouched in a corner up until now. His stomach hurt, his throat and chest too and the feeling of relief after purging, was long since gone. Now he just felt miserable and pathetic.  
  
“Little darlin’, _please_ answer Daddy. I promise, there’s nothing we cannae handle together, lovey. Aint gonnae yell at ye, I swear. Papi’s worried sick, lil’ one.”  
  
That was it. Now he was full-on crying because getting Papi worried while being home sick was absolutely _awful_ and Juice was a bad, bad boy for making him do that. There was a sigh on the other side of the door.  
  
“Are ye sure Daddy cannae give his lil’ one a hug, ‘cause it sounds like he _really_ needs one?”  
  
The voice. So strong, so calm. And sad. Juice couldn’t resist it but neither could he stand up because of his hurt stomach and he scooted over to the door and reached up to unlock it before quickly getting back to the wall for support. He knew he was probably smelling from vomits, that there were traces of his binge in the livingroom and he bent his head to his knees, feeling like utter trash.  
  
The door opened, there were a few steps and then it closed.  
  
“Hey, little darlin’…”  
  
Juice just cried and he could feel Daddy lower down.  
  
“Can Daddy hold ye, laddie?”  
  
Like he needed to ask. Juice sobbed into Daddy’s arms, let himself be held close and just feel his steady, gentle lover’s presence. He knew he was reeking, but Daddy didn’t seem to care. He rocked him slowly, placing kisses onto his hair.  
  
“Shh, lil’ one, Daddy’s here now, s’gonnae be okay. Daddy loves ye an’ he’s gonnae help his sweet lad as much as he can, alright. There’s nothing to fear, I’ll take care o’ my Juicyboy. Ye hurt yerself, huh?”  
  
Juice could only nod, whimpering from shame, fear and pain, but Daddy kept petting him slowly.  
  
“No worry, Juicy. Papi might have caught the flu, but yer Daddy decides right now, tha’ it’s worth risking ye catching it too rather than having ye stay here. Ye’ve binged?”  
  
Juice nodded again and was met with more pets.  
  
“Purged too?”  
  
Now he whimpered, because he knew it was wrong, knew it was sick, stupid and that Daddy would be so disappointed with him…  
  
“Yer poor tummy… My poor, wee lad… How can Daddy fix it, lil’ one?”  
  
Juice swallowed.  
  
“Don’t want… Papi to worry, Daddy.”  
“Ye want Daddy to call him right away, lovey?”  
  
He nodded, sniffling as he buried his face onto Daddy’s neck. Daddy pulled his phone up and Papi answered almost immediately after he’d dialed his number.  
  
“Lovey? Aye, he’s here. No, nothing to worry ‘bout, nothing major in the least, but ye were right… No. Aye. Not sure. Absolutely not! Ye’re staying in bed, Ronea, an’ tha’s final. Good. Aye. Aye, of course we are. Aye, I’ll tell’im tha’. Of course. Love ye.”  
  
He put his phone down, still holding Juice close.  
  
“Papi was very relieved to hear ye opened for Daddy, lil’ one. He was so worried ‘bout his baby boy.”  
“S-sorry, Daddy.”  
“Shh, don’ get anymore upset now, laddie. Papi’s alright, he’s jus’ having a flu, he’s not about to come crashing down for this either, I promise ye. Daddy an’ Papi are both more than strong enough to help their lil’ one through bad times. Ye think a bloody cold or some headless self-hatred’s gonnae stop’em?”  
  
Juice just sniveled and Daddy kissed his hair again.  
  
“How much did ye binge on? Ye have the receipt?”  
  
Juice digged into his pack pocket without really caring anymore and gave to Daddy before curling back to a ball. He didn’t want to meet Daddy’s eyes right now.  
  
“Ye had all of it?”  
  
Nod.  
  
“In one go?”  
“T-twenty… minutes… P-please, Daddy, don’t… Don’t leave! You can spank me here, but please, don’t leave me alone.”  
“Shh, calm down, my love. I’ve seen worse, lad, an’ _of course_ I’m not leaving my Juicyboy alone with this. Silly lad, why d’ye think I’m here?”  
“But… Papi… He’s alone now.”  
“Aye, but Daddy’s gonnae take ye home with him now. Cannae let ye sleep in our bedroom since Papi’s still sick, but Daddy’s gonnae prepare the guestroom for his lil’ one. There’s jus’ no way I’m letting ye stay here alone an’ I need to look after Papi a bit. An’ don’ even start on not wanting to cause trouble, lil’ one, ‘cause tha’ one’s not gonnae fly with Daddy. Ye got us really worried, Juicy, an’ if ye still wannae be with us, ye _have_ to let yer Daddies try an’ help ye out now.”  
  
Juice could only nod, wiping tears from his face, but the awful feeling of being a burden wasn’t so easily silenced.  
  
“D-daddy?”  
“Aye, my love?”  
“I d-didn’t mean to b-be… such a d-drama queen, Daddy.”  
“An’ what’ve Daddy said to ye about giving yerself derogatory names, laddie?”  
“That… that it’s bad. An’ not allowed, ‘cause it’s… not good for my self-image?”  
“Correct, lil’ one. Now, lets get wha’ ye need an’ then we’re goin’ home to Papi.”


	8. Filip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a lot of Daddy love <3

It was raining and right now, Filip was grateful for that. Not because his lad needed to hide his tears, but because it had been the only reason to take Ronea’s car. It was a truck with a backseat and together with his still devestated lad, Filip had managed to load his bike onto the loading platform before getting the bags in the backseat and themselves in the front.  
  
Juice had more luggage than usual, since this wasn’t a regular visit, but an emergency one and none of them knew how long he needed to stay. He looked dreadful, to be honest, and was extremely skittish right now. Ronea would have to sleep alone tonight, Filip mused as he threw a look as his miserable lad in the passenger seat. Juice had his arms swirled around himself, that self-comforting position he sometimes took to and he was shivering, probably from the anxiety more than actual cold. He was practically radiating with stress and Filip took his hand.  
  
“Easy now, lil’ one. Jus’ take a deep breath… there we go, Juicy. Yer tummy’s hurting?”  
“Y-yes, Daddy.”  
  
He didn’t instantly started to blame himself, which was a step in the right direction, at least. His lil’ lad was in a terrible shape and Filip was proud of himself for not letting his own worry shine through and turn to anger and frustration. He’d learned that lesson, at least. Juice wouldn’t look up though and Filip squeezed his hand gently.  
  
“Papi’s waiting for us, lovey. I know ye’re feeling ashamed, I can see it, but I’m _really_ glad ye let me in, lil’ darlin’.”  
  
Juice didn’t answer, only sniffled a little, but he looked a bit calmer and didn’t withdraw from his touch, which was all Filip needed at this point. He turned the key and whenever he had a chance, he took his lad’s hand while driving. Reassuring him that he wasn’t angry, that it was safe.  
  
“I’m sure Papi’s having some Alka-Seltzer for ye. Try an’ relax, my love, we’re soon home an’ then ye’ll have a nice warm bath.”  
“O-okay, Daddy.”  
  
His lad curled a bit again and Filip made sure to keep an eye on him whenever he could glance away from the road. Juice was pressing his hands hard to his stomach, still crying silently.  
  
“My boy, ye’re jus’ like yer Papi sometimes… worrying too much ‘bout everything an’ nothing...”  
  
Juice didn’t answer, maybe he didn’t know what to say, and Filip squeezed his hand again.  
  
“I love ye, lil’ one. And so does Papi. Ye know tha’, right?”  
“Y-yeah, Daddy.”  
“But it’s hard to really believe it?”  
“I… I guess, Daddy.”  
“Love’s never easy, my boy. For most people it’s hard enough to love one. Two at once seems to be an impossibility…”  
“Maybe, Daddy.”  
“Ye’re not married to us, Juicyboy, but ye’re no less loved. Ye realise how unusual it is for an old married couple to fall in love with the same person, who also happens to fall for both of them?”  
“Uhm… Yes, Daddy. It’s… very unusual, I guess.”  
  
And their boy was _very_ unused to the idea of being loved for real, Filip had finally started to realise. What did he think he was to them? A toy? An exotic kink? Something to be used, called for and tossed away at others whims? Filip felt close to tormented from the thought that maybe they’d not been clear enough with their boy. As a top, especially to two partners, it was extremely important to keep good check on things. It was his duty, damnit, and Filip Telford-Tully didn’t take his duties lightly, especially when it came to relationships of any sort.  
  
“We don’ jus’ love ye, Juicy. We’re both _in love_ with ye. Coming into a twenty years plus relationship as a third partner… I cannae imagine how tha’s like for ye, laddie, but ye’re never _ever_ supposed to worry ‘bout our feelings for ye. If we’d _not_ wanted ye like this, we’d stopped this arrangement a long time ago, before it deepened. When we say we love ye an’ wan’ ye, it’s not a part of a game or role playing, lovey. We mean it.”  
  
That broke the dam, at least. His sweet boy couldn’t hide or control his tears anymore and simply cried openly in the front seat. When they came to the next red light, Filip leaned over to hug him for a moment. Juice was shaking.  
  
“A-are you gonna spank me r-right away once we’re h-home, Daddy?”  
“No, darlin’, I don’ think tha’s a good idea, with the way ye’re feeling right now. Ye need a bath, something for yer tummy, cuddles an’ a good night’s sleep, Juicy. We’ll have our talk tomorrow after brekkie and then I’ll decide if ye need a spanking an’ if so, in wha’ form. How does tha’ sound to ye?”  
“S-sounds good, Daddy.”  
  
He really did seem to relax a bit when knowing what to expect and Filip kissed his forehead before the light turned green.  
  
“Ye’re a good boy, Juicy. Ye could’ve refused to open for Daddy, but ye didn’t an’ tha’ was very good of ye.”  
  
Juice wasn’t really open for praise in the usual way now, but it did make him breathe a little slower. He wasn’t obligated to let Daddy or Papi into his home, or vice-versa. Being reminded of the rules and that they didn’t only apply to him but his dominant lovers as well, felt good for the lad, Filip could see that.  
  
With his and Ronea’s history, Filip mused they’d not really felt the need to have Juice talk more openly about his past. The signs of abandonment and control issues were so obvious to them and the lad responded so immediately it didn’t actually seem to be difficult to him, getting into the role. Maybe that and the fact that they’d not been able to spend more than a few days with him in a row, spread out over barely seven months, had made them miss things.  
  
Filip once again reached out to pet his lil’ one. Tomorrow they would have to decide how to move on with his sudden change in their routines.


	9. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daddy takes some precautions Juice is not really comfortable with, but the alternative is worse... If this makes you cringe, then tell me, but Daddy's precautions is NOT part of a kink, but strictly for necessary reasons.

“Tha’s a good boy… S’it warm enough?”  
“Yes, Daddy.”  
“Good. Jus’ sink down for a while now. I have to talk to Papi for a moment, I’ll be right back.”  
“Okay, Daddy.”  
  
Daddy kissed his neck and smiled before leaving and Juice sank down in the hot water. His Daddie’s bathroom was, as always, very clean and well-organized. At least compared to ordinary people, he imagined. There was a few toothpaste and soap stains on the sink and mirror as well as some dust in the corners, since Papi had been in bed for a week. With any other couple, Juice would’ve seen the state of the bathroom as a sign of assholish spouse not helping out, but if he knew his Papi, the man would be batshit crazy if he had nothing to do around the house when leaving the sickbed.  
  
In special circumstances, his Daddies could break protocol and Juice suspected that although Papi had planned the grocery shopping, Daddy for once had done the actual shore. They liked clear and separated roles, they weren’t impractical morons.  
  
Getting the smell of binging and purging off, felt better than Juice had anticipated. His stomach still hurt and he started to rub it when Daddy knocked on the half-closed door and entered with a glass of buzzing water and two Advils.  
  
“How are ye doin’, laddie?”  
“Feels nice, Daddy. You know… getting the smell off.”  
“Aye. Here, have this.”  
  
Juice took the glass and pills without question, the need to obey slowly starting to kick in again. He grimazed but swallowed every drop of it.  
  
“Good boy. Ye had laxatives too?”  
“No, Daddy. J-just threw up.”  
“Hm…”  
  
Daddy rolled up his sleeve and reached down to put a hand on Juice’s aching stomach. He pressed very gently but Juice still whined. For some reason, it didn’t feel empty.  
  
“It hurts tha’ much, Juicy?”  
“Y-yes, Daddy.”  
“Have ye been to the bathroom today? Before ye binged?”  
“No, Daddy.”  
“Ye remember the last time ye went?”  
  
Juice blushed now.  
  
“Donno, Daddy. Haven’t… haven’t had much of an appetite lately. Not in a few days, at least.”   
“Okay. T’is good tha’ ye’re telling me, Juicy. Really good. Ye’ve had Advils an’ Alka-Seltzers now, lovey, an’ I’ll make ye a cup of Chamomile tea before bed. How did ye sleep last night?”  
“Not well, Daddy. In fact… s’not been well for a coupla weeks.”  
“As I suspected. This is how we’re gonnae do, Juicy. It’s only nine o’clock, but Daddy definitely thinks his lil’ one needs an early night. Ye’ll sleep in the guestroom, but since tha’ bed is big enough for two, I’ll come joining ye later.”  
“B-but what about Papi?”  
“The flu makes him really sensitive, meaning I’ve been sleeping in the guestroom myself these last few days. It’s better for all of us an’ tomorrow, ye can talk to Papi through the door.”  
  
Daddy smiled.  
  
“Ye know, like the prince talking to the princess locked in the tower.”  
“Guarded by the evil flu?”  
“Exactly.”  
  
Juice smiled too, a bit weak, but it was a smile.  
  
“Thank you, Daddy.”  
“Anytime, lil’ one. An’ just so ye know, I can see yer eyes starting to drop a bit already so this is not a good time for any protests unless ye’re in _real_ discomfort. Daddy makes the decisions, ye understand?”  
“Yes, Daddy.”  
“Very good. On yer knees so I can get ye properly cleaned.”  
  
Juice obeyed, it went slow but Daddy was never impatient and he gently washed his lad’s hole and perineum with a sponge. He then showered him a bit before helping him out of the tub. He dried Juice meticulously and rubbed lotion onto his skin. He took a clean towel from the shelf and smiled.  
  
“Come with me, laddie. We have a few things to do before ye’re off to bed.”  
  
It was just as humiliating as the last time, laying onto the side while Daddy pushed the thermomether inside. It hurt too, even if it was properly lubed, and Juice received a soothing kiss.  
  
“Fever or not, I’m still not giving ye a spanking tonight, lil’ one, maybe not tomorrow either if I deem ye unfit for it. But I cannae send ye to bed in this state without checking.”  
“I-I know, Daddy.”  
“An’ just so ye know, ye’ll be sleeping in a nappy.”  
“W-what? Daddy, why?”  
“Because it’s very clear tha’ ye’re not fit to be treated like an adult in any sense right now, my love, and in case ye actually sleep propely, I don’ want ye to risk waking up in a mess.”  
“But… I… Sorry, Daddy. I mean, yes, Daddy.”  
“Good answer, laddie. And it looks like ye don’ have any fever. Very good. Lay down on yer back.”  
  
The only thing preventing him from getting hard, was the horrible stomach pain. Sex was the last thing on Juice’s mind right now and the idea of actually _using_ the diaper made him cringe. As Daddy, after using cream on his hole, put it on, Juice swallowed.  
  
“Daddy?”  
“Aye, lovey?”  
“I… I don’t have to _use_ it, right? I mean…”  
“Of course not, lil’ one. This is just an extra precaution, laddie, in case yer tummy decides to flip a lil’ too fast. I know ye don’ like it, but I think ye agree tha’ it’s to prefer to smeared sheets. Ye need to relax, ye need to _sleep_ , Juicy, an’ jus’ sitting up waiting for yer tummy to start working is simply not an option right now. There, all in place.”  
  
He patted the diaper clad ass and Juice blushed again. Had he not been so exhausted, he’d probably protested more, but the gratitude for being with the only people making him feel safe was greater than the humiliation right now. Also, Daddy had used his ‘this is final’ voice. He handed him pajama pants and a tanktop.  
  
“Put these on while I get yer tea.”  
“Yes, Daddy.”  
  
He did as he was told, trying to not look into the mirror on the wall. It was more than enough to feel the diaper, he definitely didn’t need to see how he looked in it. Sitting hurt a bit, of course, unfortunately not the sweet burn from a spanking, but the deep and unhealthy kind from inside. When Daddy came back he had a large cup as well as a glass of freshly pressed oranges with him and Juice bit his lip.  
  
“I… I don’t know if I can have both of them, Daddy. I mean… I never drink that much before before bed.”  
“Well, ye are now, laddie. Ye have unusually dry skin an’ seem a lil’ unsteady on yer feet.”  
  
No room for arguments at all and after the initial feeling of defiance, Juice took the glass and drank it in small but determined sips. Once he was done, Daddy kissed his forehead.  
  
“Good boy. Now the tea. As much of it as ye can, it’ll do wonders for yer tummy ache.”  
“I’ll try, Daddy.”  
  
Papi’s Chamomile brew was calming, maybe mostly because it was something warm and because Juice knew that it was Papi’s special blend. It was like feeling Papi’s care even he wasn’t present at the moment. Juice emptied the cup and handed it over to Daddy.  
  
“Finished, Daddy.”  
“Good boy, Juicy. Now brush yer teeth.”  
“Yes, Daddy.”  
  
He did as he was told, although still avoiding the mirror over the sink and when he came back to the guestroom, Daddy had lit the pink night lamp on the windowsill, made the bed and Juice gratefully got under the covers. Daddy laid down beside him and opened his arms so Juice could snuggle in close.  
  
“There we go, lil’ one… All set now. Daddy’s gonnae stay with ye until ye’re asleep and leave the night lamp on.”  
“C-can you leave the door open too?”  
“Of course, my love. I’ll join ye later, as I promised, an’ I wont have the telly or any music on, so I’ll hear ye if ye call for me, alright?”  
“Thank you, Daddy. You’re the best…”  
 “An’ ye’re the best lil’ lad I could ever wish for. One last thing. If ye happen to use the nappy in yer sleep an’ then wakes up, ye have to call for Daddy. I’m fully aware of how embarressing this is for ye, but Daddy is _very_ concerned about yer tummy righ’ now, lad. If ye take it off or use it without telling me, I will have to spank ye more than I intended to an’ trust me, I’ll have ye not only wear but actually _use_ nappies during the day.”  
“That… doesn’t sound nice at all, Daddy.”  
“No, it doesn’t, so wha’ will ye do if ye wake up from using yer nappy at night?”  
“Leave it on and wake you up, Daddy.”  
“Good boy. Now, lemme sing a bit for ye, lil’ one. Ye’re warm enough?”  
“Yes, Daddy.”  
  
Being cuddled in Daddy’s arms was one of the best things Juice knew of.  As he was lulled to sleep from Daddy’s Gaelic humming, he felt how the stress and pain not disappeared, but calmed down significantly. The diaper still felt humiliating and strange, but the more he relaxed, the less it bothered him.   
  
“Daddy…?”  
“Aye, lil’ one?”  
“If… If I have an accident… does that make me… digusting?”  
“Not at all, my love. Yer tummy’s upset an’ tha’s not yer fault. Even adults sometimes need nappies when they’re sick an’ tha’s nothing to be ashamed of.”  
“Think I still might… feel a bit… ashamed, Daddy.”  
  
Daddy chuckled and kissed his hair.   
  
“I bet ye would. Now sleep, Juicyboy… Daddy loves ye… Jus’ go to sleep…”


	10. Ronea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little husband time :)

“Thank ye, baby.”  
“For what?”  
“Convincing yer slow old man to go and get our boy.”  
“Anytime, old man. How’s he?”  
“Not good, I’m afraid.”  
  
Ronea looked up fully now, ignoring his headache and Filip held up his hand.  
  
“Relax, Ronea, there’s no emergency, otherwise I’d taken him to the E.R.”  
“I know… What’s wrong with my baby boy, Filip?”  
  
His husband sighed.  
  
“A really bad binge, for a start.”  
“Oh, no…”  
“At least the lad had saved the receipt. Jesus Christ, I don’ understand how’s it even possible for someone to… physically get tha’ much in. He purged most of it, but unsurprisingly he’s got some nasty stomach pain.”  
“My poor baby boy…”  
  
Filip nodded.  
  
“Aye… Gave him Alka-Seltzer, Advil an’ then tea. His stomach is just a mess so I got him a nappy.”  
“You put him in a diaper?”  
“Aye. He was in too much discomfort to even feel tha’ humiliated about it.”  
“Jesus…”  
“S’not for play, it’s pure necessity.”  
“I know, but my poor boy… God, I feel so useless here.”  
“I understand tha’, lovey, but yer husband wont deal with both of ye having a fit now, so ye’ll have to behave for me, or I’ll cuff ye to the bed an’ tha’s not an empty threat.”  
“I’ll be your model husband, baby, as I promised. Just give me heads-ups and promise you come to me if you have questions.”  
“Of course. Ye’re the mama bear, after all.”  
“And you should be thankful I’m currently in my pit, too tired to make you regret calling me that. On another matter, does he need a spanking?”  
“Of course he does, but not with a stomach ache like that. Ye’re awfully cute when ye’re fussing over him, lovey, but I assure ye I know the drill. All in good time, baby.”  
“You realise he’s gonna be absolutely devestated if he has an accident, right?”  
“I know, but I really don’ think tha’s gonnae happen.”  
  
Ronea sighed.  
  
“Baby, I was never into age play, as you know, but even if I’m Juice’s top, I’m always primarly a bottom and I know how extremely vulnerable it can make you feel when you’re forced to give up control like that. I mean, forced as in forced by bodily functions.”  
“T’is not the same thing, lovey. What _he_ did to ye…”  
“No, no, I’m not comparing you two, Filip! Jesus Christ, the day I do that, you’ll have to take me to the looney bin. No, I simply mean that I know how devestating it is when you… well, I don’t fucking know why I’m mincing my words here… When you’re tied up and forced to piss and shit yourself simply for the sake of someone’s urge to humiliate and control you. If… if you’re unsure of whether Juice is okay with the diaper for real or not, just talk to him and if that doesn’t help, let me talk to him.”  
  
His husband smiled now, stroking Ronea’s cheek.  
  
“Ye know I’d be lost without ye, right? An’ I don’ intend for him to use the nappy, s’just an extra security. If his stomach starts working tomorrow, he wont need it again.”  
“Come on, baby, you think he looks cute in it.”  
“Aye, but only because he makes tha’ cute lil’ frown an’ blushing like hell. An’ speaking of blushing pretty lads, ye still look feverish, lovey.”  
“101,3 tonight so it’s getting better. Took an Advil about an hour ago.”  
“Oh, good. Ye want some more ice cream?”  
“Yes, please, but only if you’re keeping me company.”  
  
He pouted, mostly for show and because he knew Filip was weak for it.  
  
“Your big lad needs his husband for a while, especially since you’re sleeping with our lil’ one tonight.”  
“Is that so, huh?”  
“Yeah. I love ice cream, but it gives terrible cuddles, you know.”  
“Ice cream an’ cuddles it is, then, darlin’.”


	11. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juice turns a little bit to kiddy language again, which he does when he feels extremely vulnerable.

The pain was bad but not intolerable and despite the cramps and waves of nausea, the slightly smeared diaper he’d finally managed to roll up so he didn’t have to see it, he knew this was good. Juice was practically double bent on the toilet and he whimpered, trying to relax.  
  
“Are ye alright, Juicy?”  
  
Daddy, thank God, was waiting outside, giving him some privacy. Juice had practically woken up from the rumble inside and ran to the bathroom and although he hated the diaper, he was still grateful for not shitting the bed. He swallowed.  
  
“Y-yes, Daddy. T’is… okay.”  
“Good. Take yer time, lad, an’ relax, okay?”  
“I-I’ll try, Daddy.”  
“Good boy. Jus’ shout if ye need anything.”  
“Okay, Daddy.”  
  
He really didn’t care if Daddy heard him using the bathroom. At this point he was just endlessly grateful for making to it in time and that his stomach had finally decided to cooperate. It still hurt, but at least his plumbing worked again.   
  
When he was done, he had to take a moment before standing, but despite the soreness in stomach and ass, he felt so much better. He flushed, stumbled to the sink and washed his hands. He was sweaty all over, though, and when Daddy knocked again, Juice let him in.  
  
“How are ye feeling, lil’ one?”  
“Hurts a little and I’m sweaty, but it’s much better, Daddy.”  
“I’m relieved to hear that, lad. Get in the tub an’ I’ll help ye shower off a bit.”  
“Yes, Daddy. Thank you.”  
  
It felt nothing but awesome to have a cool shower, just rinsing off the sweat and warmth. Juice lifted his face against the water, smiling and Daddy chuckled.  
  
“Ye look like ye’ve won the lottery, laddie.”  
“That’s how it feels like right now, Daddy. You put laxatives in my drink, right?”  
“Aye. Sorry for not telling ye, but I knew ye’d be unable to relax if ye knew.”  
  
Juice sighed.  
  
“Probably, Daddy. Jesus, I feel like three times lighter or something…”  
“Good. Now, on yer knees, arse up.”  
  
Daddy was extra gentle now, using washing oil rather than soap and didn’t push inside.   
  
“Ye look a bit puffy, darlin’. I’ll get ye some aloe before we’re back to bed.”  
“Thank you, Daddy. I’m a little sore.”  
“I know, but it’ll feel much better in the morning an’ if I know yer Papi right, he’s gonnae put together a menu for ye tha’s perfect for yer tummy.”  
“World’s best Papi.”  
  
Daddy rinsed and gave Juice a kiss on the shoulder.   
  
“He sure is, lil’ one.”  
  
When he was done, he helped Juice out of the tub and dried him off before taking him back into the bedroom.   
  
“Lay down on yer back, lovey.”  
  
Juice made huge eyes.  
  
“But… You’re…? I don’t want another diaper, Daddy.”  
“Ye’re still having one so lay down, lad.”  
“But Daddy…”  
“ _Now_ , Juicy, or I’ll have to bring the ginger.”  
  
No point in protesting and Juice was burning from humiliation as he laid down. Daddy bent his legs upwards and Juice felt the small syringe, properly lubed, press into his hole and push the soothing cream inside. Then Daddy put his legs down, arranged the diaper and taped it around him.  
  
“It’s just a precaution for this night, Juice. I hardly think ye’ll need one tomorrow or even use this one tonight, but Daddy wants his lad to be safe and properly prepared to deal with tha’ unruly tummy of his.”  
  
Juice pouted.  
  
“What if Juicy takes it off when you’re asleep, Daddy?”  
“ _Then_ Juicy will taste Daddy’s lexan paddle after breakfast and be sent to bed for the whole day – in a nappy tha’ Daddy will _change_ for him. Is tha’ wha’ ye’d like?”  
“No, please no, Daddy!”  
“So, will Juicy be a good boy or not?”  
“Juicy will! Juicy _promises_ not to take it off, Daddy!”  
“Atta boy. Now, if ye could stand for a moment so Daddy can change the sheets.”  
  
 A little while later, Juice was snuggled down between clean, dry sheets, his stomach wonderfully calm, just sore, but another Alka-Seltzer and Advil would soon work their magic and the aloe helped a lot with his stressed hole. When Daddy was done cleaning up in the bathroom and turning the lights out, he spooned Juice carefully.  
  
“Ye’re feeling better now, lil’ one?”  
“A lot, Daddy. But Daddy…?”  
“Aye, my love?”  
“W-will you have Juicy in the diaper tomorrow?”  
“Only if ye take it off during the night, lil’ one.”  
“Juicy doesn’t like the diaper… or the lexan paddle, Daddy…”  
“Oh, c’mere, lil’ darlin’…”  
  
Daddy swirled his arms around him, rocking him in his warm embrace.  
  
“Ye obeyed Daddy an’ accepted the nappy like a very good boy, an’ I understand how much ye dislike it, so I’m very pleased with ye for still doing as Daddy told ye. Now ye only have to keep it on, let Daddy take it off tomorrow morning and tha’s it.”  
“No more diapers?”  
“Not unless ye really need them for medical reasons, or if ye decide to be a very naughty boy. But ye’re a good boy, aren’t ye, lil’ one?”  
“I wanna be a good boy, Daddy.”  
“Then I don’ think ye’ll have to worry about nappies or lexan paddles, lil’ darlin’.”  
“But… Juice was still naughty, Daddy.”  
“Aye, he was. Didn’t say ye _don’t_ need a proper spanking, lad. Only tha’ I wont use my lexan paddle or have ye wear nappies. Now, go to sleep, lil’ one.”  
“Kay, Daddy. Love you.”  
“Love ye too, Juicyboy.”


	12. Filip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filip in deep thoughts over his breakfast.

Filip Telford-Tully once again looked over his own, Ronea’s and Juice’s schedules, sipping on his coffee. He had his notepad on the table and made notes while reading. Usually, Sunday mornings meant a slow, natural wake-up from the sun through the window and the smell of his husband’s waffles or oatmeal. They would put their legs up in an otherwise completely inapproriate manner and just spend a couple of slow, silent hours at the table, reading the papers or doing crossword puzzles.  
  
Sunday was the day without work, club meetings, social activities, errands or stress. Usually, they would just bask in being together, enjoy some well-earned laziness and on their second cup of coffee, when breakfast was done, simply talk about everything and nothing. And if Juice was with them, they’d have a satisfied yet slightly sad boy with them, with huge deer eyes looking over the coffe cup. Calm but too aware of the time.  
  
Filip scratched his beard. Thankfully, Juice had fallen asleep quickly after his accident and barely reacted when his Daddy woke up and tangled out of his octopuslike grip this morning. The lad’s emotions were in absolute tatters, no doubt about it, and had to be handled with extra caution. First of all, they needed to have a proper talk, face to face. The tricky thing was that Filip didn’t know what would be best: to have the regular confession talk and a cleansing spanking before or after dealing with the more serious matters. No doubt, Juice craved punishment, not just emotional relief, but it was very important to have the whole picture before having the lad bend over.  
  
One of the problems was that his lad had a very distorted image about what was naughty and not and, which was even worse, still not felt like he belonged. Ronea had never been submissive to a point where he lowered himself like some kind of kicked animal. It had taken a long time for him to share and allow being helped when he needed it, but Juice’s instinct when he got hurt, was to completely isolate himself and that was really dangerous. He didn’t cut or burn himself, sure, but locking up so tight from anxeity for weeks, then binge eating and purging because he no longer knew what he felt, only the utter chaos, was just as bad, come thinking of it.    
  
Dealing with Ronea’s fears had meant a lot of yelling and arguing, slammed doors and tears, since the man had been absolutely convinced he was impossible to love and determined to make Filip realise that. He’d hated his longing for submissiveness, been so ashamed of it and turning that into something healthy had not come easy or quickly. Juice didn’t test love like Ronea, though. The lad was simply too suppressed and Filip started to regret the rule of not digging into his lad’s background. It had been important to Juice and perfectly understandable, but it also made it a lot more diffcult to handle the lad.  
  
All three of them had showed the necessary background information before deciding on a relationship. Medical stuff, making sure they were all clean and not on any drugs or heavy meds. Legal records, of course. Safety was extremely important. They’d even shared some financial information, just to make sure they’d not walked into bed with someone who carried a lot of debts with him and was desperate for money.  
  
Mental health was another thing, though. Unlike broken legs and concussions, it was way easier to hide and far too many had no treatment at all. Filip loved living in California, but the American health care system was a bloody disaster and one of the reasons he’d kept his British citizenship. At least, if he got really ill, he could get treatment in Scotland without going bankrupt and put his husband in a terrible financial situation.  
  
Despite Ronea being a homemaker for many years, they’d been able to save regularly. Filip’s husband was really good with money, far better than he, and for the last fifteen years or so, he’d left the bills and household budget entirely in Ronea’s hands, more or less asking him for the monthly allowance, happy for not having to think much about it. Letting his husband’s need for order and control run wild over the budget, had proven to be a brilliant move. Filip had no idea how the hell Ronea made it, but somehow, even while saving for the house, there’d been food on the table, whole and clean clothes in their closets and Filip had not yet seen a broken chair, cracked plate or loose shoe sole his husband couldn’t mend, or a wall that didn’t look clost to perfect from his tapestry and painting skills.  
  
When they’d been short on gas and food money and Filip was worried to the brink of an ulcer and ready to give up the dream of a house, Ronea had borrowed the neighbor’s bike and traveled six bloody miles to a store who had a special coupon offer, coming back home with a whole backpack of flour and a book about baking from the library. The first load of homemade bread had been way too dry and they’d had to dip it in coffee and tea to make it edible, but Filip had been so fucking impressed, proud and grateful. His husband’s cooking and baking skills had improved a lot since then, but it was still one of Filip’s fondest memories of their marriage, how they’d both cracked up over the half-burnt loaf and how _happy_ Ronea had been from making it.  
  
Their weekly schedule had been more or less the same since moving to the house, with small adjustments due to seasons or temporary changes. Filip making breakfast on tray for his lads, definitely was one of the more unusual ones.  
  
After discussing Juice’s state this morning, Ronea had decided on smoothies made from banana, papaya, soy yogurt and a cup of oats added to it, along with some green peppermint tea for breakfast. Filip, how ever, was allowed some bacon and eggs as well, because his husband was pretty good at spoiling too. Since it was still early and his boys were both still asleep, Filip put his notepad aside and brought out his goods from the fridge.  
  
While making his rashes of bacon and scrambled eggs, he thought about Juice’s discipline. It was probably a bad idea to wait with all of the talking until after breakfast. The lad felt unhinged and Filip decided he would have to talk to Juice and explain the order of things for today, before breakfast. When, where and how to be disciplined. A bare bottom spanking was a given, of course, but in which form? He’d clearly broken the rule of taking care of himself, calling his Daddies when he needed, not answering the phone and by extension making especially Papi worried. He’d also been defiant about the nappy and allowed himself to be overruled by shame and self-hatred to the point of binge-eating.  
  
Binging and purging weren’t reasons to punish him, of course. Filip was well aware that it wasn’t a choise anymore than having a panic attack, but Juice needed the chastisement like air when he was this low. He needed to hear Daddy tell him how wrong it was to treat his body like that, to be held accountable for his actions instead of hiding them so the shame could fester. Once he could cry freely, his poor lad would feel much better. But shutting his phone off like that was extremely naughty behavior and caused for something more. No ginger, absolutely not, but since Juice found the nappy so humiliating, maybe that was what he needed today.  
  
Wearing, not using it, of course. A reminder of that when he was under this roof, he was _little_. Filip suspected there’d not been many occasions, maybe not even none, when Juice had been embarressed or felt humiliated in a _safe_ environment, with people who wouldn’t judge or ridicule him. He could wear the nappy instead of boxers today before the spanking and learn that Daddy would treat him with all the respect and care he deserved and needed, no matter what he was wearing.


	13. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daddy has a plan and Juice doesn't like it...

“Good morning, sunshine…”  
“Mornin’, Daddy…”  
  
He yawned and stretched a bit, before curling into a ball again. Daddy kissed his crown.  
  
“How are ye feeling today, my boy?”  
“Better, Daddy.”  
“No tummy ache?”  
  
Juice had to feel for a moment.  
  
“Maybe just a little sore, Daddy.”  
“Then it’s good ye’re having smoothies and mint tea for breakfast.”  
“No coffee, Daddy?”  
“Papi said mint tea for his lad, so mint tea it is. It’s nicer for yer tummy.”  
“Can… Juice take the diaper off now, Daddy?”  
  
It was easier to talk about himself in third person right now, which meant he was still anxious and Daddy stroke his cheek.  
  
“Daddy has decided for something slightly different, Juicyboy. Ye will wear it at breakfast an’ then, while I do the dishes, ye will rest on the couch an’ then we’ll have our lil’ chat. Ye will wear it during the spanking, but I will of course pull it down.”  
“But… Daddy said Juice didn’t have to wear it. Daddy _promised_.”  
  
He knew his lip was trembling a little now and Daddy kissed his hair again.  
  
“Daddy said ye don’ have to _use_ it. I assume it’s dry, right?”  
“Of course, Daddy.”  
  
He was blushing and looked for a sign of malice in his Daddy’s gaze, but found nothing. His eyes were still as warm and loving as always.  
  
“Then I suggest ye wash yerself an’ put a clean nappy an’ some clothes on, my love, an’ come to the kitchen for some specially made smoothies from Papi’s recipe I’m sure yer tummy will love.”  
“Yes, Daddy.”  
“Good boy.”  
  
Daddy returned to the kitchen and Juice took the clothes and diaper on the chair, padding into the bathroom. He really wanted to cuddle with Papi, but maybe he was still feverish and needed to rest. Daddy would tell later on. Juice removed the dry but hated diaper and washed himself meticulously before putting the fresh one on.  
  
It looked so ridiculous on him and the embarressment, now that his stomach barely hurt anymore, already had him half-hard. It wasn’t the diaper in itself that turned him on, but the humiliation that would’ve been just as huge if he’d been wearing a thong, lace panties or nothing at all. The thought of sitting in Papi’s immaculate kitchen naked, trying to eat breakfast properly while Daddy and Papi both were dressed and could see their boy on full display in such an improper manner, instantly made Juice’s cock react and although it didn’t show, he was sure Daddy would know.  
  
He put the clean jeans on that despite being baggy, absolutely showed that he was wearing the damn diaper. He finished with socks, a grey tanktop and a hoodie that felt too warm, but he wasn’t really sure if Daddy allowed his boy in only a tanktop by the table. When he was done, he brushed his teeth and hurried down to the kitchen, where Daddy was standing by the countertop, serving up a smoothie in a high glass. It smelled from coffee, everything was neat and clean and the curtains moving a little from the morning breeze.  
  
“Hi, Daddy.”  
“Hi, lovey. Aren’t ye a bit warm in tha’ hoodie?”  
“Wasn’t sure if tanktops only was allowed by the table, Daddy.”  
“They absolutely are, but ye’re a _very_ good boy for asking, Juice. So well-haved.”  
“Thank you, Daddy. Love the coffee smell…”  
“Sit down, laddie. There’ll be no coffee for ye now, ye remember?”  
“S’okay, Daddy, Don’t think my stomach would approve anyway.”  
“Neither did yer Papi. Ye’re having yer mint tea here.”  
  
It felt somehow wrong that Daddy served food, but of course that was the order of things if Papi was sick. Juice took the offered cup and had a small sip.  
  
“T’is okay, Daddy. Thank you. Love the smell of coffee though.”  
“Aye, so does yer Papi. He insisted on sniffing my cup yesterday morning, I almost got snot in it.”  
“Eww, that’s gross Daddy!”  
  
Daddy chuckled and planted a kiss on Juice’s hair. It was pretty warm in the kitchen and Juice looked at Daddy.  
  
“May I take my hoodie off then, Daddy?”  
“Of course, sweetheart. Ye can put it on Papi’s chair while we eat.”  
“Thank you, Daddy.”  
  
The smoothie was nice and as long as he drank it slowly, his stomach didn’t protest at all. Daddy just had coffee now, he’d probably had breakfast earlier. Juice held his glass hard and Daddy looked at him.  
  
“Juicyboy, _relax_ , my love. I can assure ye, we wont make ye go back to yer place until we’re sure ye’re fit for it, okay? No matter if it’s a weekend or not. Of course we’re not gonnae force ye to stay here either, ye know tha’, but there’s no stress, laddie.”  
“I… I can’t stop, Daddy.”  
  
Juice involuntarily clutched his stomach.  
  
“My head… it’s just spinning again…”  
“Will it be a lil’ easier, if I tell ye ‘bout the plan for this morning, lil’ one?”  
“Yes, Daddy. Maybe.”  
  
Daddy reached out to take his hand.  
  
“First, ye’ll finish yer smoothie an’ tea. Then, ye’ll lay down for a bit, resting yer tummy while I do the dishes. Then we will check yer temperature an’ have our talk. Once I deem we’re done with the talking, I will pick the right instrument an’ ye'll bend over my lap. I will pull yer diaper down an’ give ye yer _first_ spanking.”  
  
Juice nodded, feeling the worry calm down a bit. Of course he’d have more than one spanking, considering how terribly naughty he’d been. Daddy stroke his thumb over the back of his hand.  
  
“When we’re done, ye’ll get to rest in my arms as usual an’ cry an’ talk as little or as much as ye need. Then I’ll toss the diaper, rub ye with ointment an’ have ye rest with me for a while longer. How does tha’ sound to ye, my boy?”  
“Sounds fair, Daddy. I wont like it, but I know I need it…”


	14. Ronea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papi and Daddy discussion again :)

“Wha’ ‘bout the binging?”  
“What of it, baby?”  
“I’m still not sure how to approach it.”  
  
Ronea put his teacup down and blew his nose.  
  
“You know why he’s doing it?”  
“Anxiety.”  
“Yes, but where does that anxiety come from?”  
“He’s afraid of loosing control?”  
“Yeah, definitely, but I suspect, since it’s Juice, that he’s also doing it to punish himself. Like I did with the cutting.”  
“Mary, Mother o’ Christ… Ronea, I’m not _fit_ for this kinda’ talking with him.”  
“Yes you _are_ , Mr. Telford, and you will deal with it.”  
  
He was scolding a little, yes, but this wasn’t the right time for self-doubt and Filip looked way to insecure.  
  
“You can’t look like this when you go out to him, Filip. You already know why you’re giving him a spanking, right? I mean, which rules he broke.”  
“Aye, not calling us.”  
“Which isn’t enough for the kind of spanking he craves right now, so you have to talk about the binging and purging, make him understand how disappointed, sad and worried we both get when he’s doing himself harm and doesn’t talk to us. That he’s done wrong to his body, but isn’t _naughty_ for binging and purging.”  
“Aye, but he needs more than tha’, lovey. He’s so tense an’ in a really bad head space. If didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s ready to throw a fit unless I chastise him properly.”  
“And you don’t have enough reasons to punish him that much, so you need to tell him that you’re giving him both kinds. First punishment, then emotional relief.”   
“Ye’re right, of course. I’ll use different instruments too.”  
“Good idea. Remember that he has a tendency to loose words and thoughts when he confesses or rambles. If he says that he hates himself or something like that, don’t interrupt him.”  
“Why?”  
“Because it’s probably a lot easier for him to keep talking and get everything off his chest if he’s not chastised with words at the same time.”  
“True. It would just interrupt his flow.”  
“My suggestion, also, is to put the chastity device on before you spank him and leave it on until he’s all cried out. The way you describe his mood, baby, makes it sound like he’s not fit to deal with a sudden orgasm in the midst of spanking today.”  
  
Now his husband smiled and looked like himself again. Firm, strong and dominant. Safe and loving.  
  
“Ye’re a genius, lovey.”  
“I have my moments.”  
  
Ronea gave him his teasing smile, albeit a bit tired. Filip stroke his cheek.  
  
“Ye have everything ye need until lunch, baby?”  
“Princess is all safe and comfortable in her tower. You go and take care of our boy, while I have a nap.”


	15. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not easy to talk over Daddy's lap...

“Does it hurt, lil’ one?”  
“No, Daddy.”  
“Good.”  
  
Daddy was stroking his shoulders while waiting. The thermometer was barely noticable, even with the soreness and Juice sent a silent prayer of thanks for his Daddy who was so generous with the lube. He’d already caged him which meant there’d be no permission to come over Daddy’s lap this time and Juice interpreted that as a sign of what a bad, _bad_ boy he’d been.  
  
“Still no fever, my boy. Roll onto yer back, so Daddy can pull the nappy up.”  
  
It wasn’t a pull-up diaper, but one with tape and had the chastity device not been sitting so perfectly tight around the base of his cock and balls, Juice knew the shame would’ve had him hard and coming in no time. Daddy patted his front once he’d pulled the jeans up.  
  
“There. Locked up an’ secure. Now come and sit on Daddy’s lap.”  
  
Juice blushed as he obeyed and Daddy put his arms around him, having him lean onto his shoulder.  
  
“Juicy, now ye will only _listen_ to Daddy for a while, alright? No talking until I say so. Nod if ye understand.”  
  
Juice nodded and Daddy rubbed his arm a bit.  
  
“Now, sit up straight. Good boy. Are ye ready to listen properly? Alright then… Juice, Daddy is _very_ disappointed with ye. Ye broke two very important rules by deliberately not answering the phone and by not telling us tha’ ye were in such a downrange spiral. _Because_ of tha’, ye hurt yerself, hurt yer tummy, heart an’ head. Now, I do not punish ye for the binge eating or purging, lad, but for not obeying the rule of _calling_ us and worse: not answering. Do ye have any idea how worried yer Papi was?”  
  
Juice shivered, the full weight of his guilt and shame almost crushing him because Daddy was so disappointed and Papi had been hurt.  
  
“Are ye listening to me, Juice? Answer properly, please.”  
“Yes, Daddy. I’m listening.”  
“Good. If ye think the fact tha’ me an’ Papi haven’t known ye for very long, makes us love ye any less an’ therefor not care if ye or someone else is hurting ye, ye’re not only letting us but _yerself_ down. To think tha’ my lil’ laddie would despise himself so much tha’ he’d deliberately hurt his body an’ mind rather than call his Daddies an’ ask for them to come an’ get’im, is a clear violation against our rules, Juice. But more important, it’s a sign tha’ this sweet lad we love so much, _doesn’t think we care_.”  
  
Juice whimpered, remembering he’d not been permitted to speak, but hearing Daddy count up all the transgressions he’d done, instead of letting him confess himself, was extremely difficult. It felt like he was laid completely bare, like Daddy saw everything ugly about him and got _sad_ from it. Juice sniffled silently and Daddy turned his face to have him look properly at him. Daddy’s face was stern, not angry or hateful, not at all, but so hurt and Juice covered his own face, mortified.  
  
“Kneel on the floor an’ pull yer jeans down, Juicy.”  
  
His hands were shaking a bit, but he managed to obey and then Daddy sat down on the floor and patted his lap.  
  
“Scoot down the nappy an’ bend over.”  
  
It was a bit difficult knowing where to put his hands, but Daddy helped him with a pillow and then pulled the diaper down a bit more.  
  
“Widen yer legs an’ sway-back, boy.”  
  
Another, smaller and firmer pillow was put under his belly, causing his ass to point a bit more upwards in a very vulnerable and humiliating position. Daddy checked to make sure he was laying steady and then stroke his back.  
  
“Ye’re quite a handful, lad. Ye’ve earned this spanking because naughty boys who don’t obey their Daddies, need to be punished. Completely _headless_ boys who scare their sick Papis should wear nappies and get spankings, shouldn’t they?”  
“Y-yes, Daddy. I-I’ve been a _very_ naughty boy.”  
“Aye, ye have, an’ naughty boys should have red bottoms. Ye will not count an’ not beg, ye understand me, boy?”  
“Yes, Daddy.”  
“Ye will try and not cry, and absolutely not talk. If _I_ talk, unless I literally tell ye to answer me, ye’re not answering. Is tha’ clear?”  
“Yes, Daddy.”  
“Good.”  
  
He felt Daddy’s hand rub a little onto the small of his back and then the first blow came and it was _hard._ Daddy was disappointed with him and it felt. Juice put his fist in his mouth, biting down the knuckles and the next blow echoed in the room.  
  
“How could ye do this to yerself, boy?”  
  
Another smack, hard enough to have him pant.  
  
“Have ye any idea how scared ye made yer Daddies?”  
  
Smack.  
  
“Hiding away, instead of doing the right thing. Not primarly for us, but for _yerself._ ”  
  
It hurt and the fact that Daddy actually spoke between the blows, was somehow even more awful because he usually never did that.  
  
Daddy was not lenient with him, this was meant to be felt and _dear Lord_ , did Juice feel it. Daddy kept counting up every disappointment, misstep and bad judgement between the blows and Juice forced himself not to cry and wasn’t comforted. Comfort wasn’t what he needed at this point, he needed the bad thoughts drawn out like poison from a wound and the hard words from Daddy weren’t directed at his person, but the missteps.  
  
He didn’t count the blows and although they were hard, Daddy didn’t spank for very long. After a little while he stopped and rubbed his buttocks.  
  
“Are ye okay, boy?”  
“Y-yes, Daddy.”  
“Stand and pull yer nappy and pants up.”  
  
He was really sore and the diaper itched. There was the beginning of tears in his eyes, more from shame than pain, but he managed to stop them and forced himself to look at Daddy. The man didn’t look as stearn anymore and held his arms out.  
  
“Come an’ let Daddy hold ye a moment, lil’ one. We’re not done yet, but I wannae hold ye for a lil’ while.”  
  
Juice all but threw himself in his Daddy’s lap, despite his sore ass, and sniffled into his neck.  
  
“S-sorry, Daddy…”  
“Shh, lil’ one. No talking yet. Wind down a bit, alright?”  
  
He kept shushing him until Juice had stopped sniffling and then he lifted Juice’s face, kissing his forehead.  
  
“Tha’ was the _punishment_ , laddie. I’ve lectured ye an’ ye listened as I told ye an’ ye’re forgiven. Now I wan’ ye to go to the bathroom an’ change to underwear an’ jeans. The underwear is on the sink an’ ye’re to throw the nappy in the trashcan. An’ if I were ye, I’d not question Daddy but simply obey. Alright?”  
“Yes, Daddy.”  
“Good boy. Now get going.”  
  
It was very confusing. Juice hurried away, eager to get out of the awful diaper, but there was no boxers in the bathroom, but fucking _lace panties_ and Juice could barely hold back a whine. He only hesitated a moment before pulling them up, hissing just a little and then quickly got his jeans back on. He looked into the mirror to make sure he didn’t look too upset and then walked back out to the livingroom.  
  
Daddy was holding a pruning shears and Juice immedately realised what he was supposed to do. He’d never done it, but he knew Papi had.  
  
“Are ye feeling alright, Juice?”  
“Yes, Daddy.”  
“Ye’re not dizzy or nauseous?”  
“No, Daddy.”  
“Good. Then I want ye to go out to the birch in the backyard and cut a proper rod. About this size.”  
  
He opened the cabinet and took out a bundle of birch twigs that looked dry and whithered.  
  
“A while before yer Papi caught his nasty flu, he disobeyed Daddy and had to go out and cut himself this rod. As ye see it’s gone a bit too dry now an’ I consider it more suiting if ye cut yer own rod for yer bottom before we talk. Ye understand, lad?”  
“Yes, Daddy.”  
“Good. Off ye go, then.”  
  
He handed the pruning shears and a piece of thick cotton thread over and Juice swallowed hard before walking out to the backyard and over to the slender birch who’s twigs looked deceitfully soft and harmless. He’d not yet asked for or received forgiveness in words and that made him tense and jittery, but he still decided that Daddy knew best and so Juice took to the task with two sets of burning cheeks, grateful for the high hedge preventing people from looking into Daddy’s and Papi’s backyard.  
  
When it looked like he had enough twigs in a proper amount, he tied them and returned inside, still blushing all down his neck and walked into the livingroom. He silently held the rod out for Daddy to inspect and he got almost weak with relief from the improving nod.  
  
“It’s suitable. Well done, Juice.”  
“Thank you, Daddy.”  
“Sit down on the cushion, boy.”  
  
Juice immediately sank down to sit on the quite firm cushion on the floor, placed by the couch and Daddy sat down, close enough for Juice to be able to nuzzle him if he was allowed. He put the rod to the side and stroke Juice’s hair.  
  
“My darlin’ lil’ boy… Wha’ is it tha’ ye really need? Tell Daddy.”  
  
But he couldn’t, because how could someone like him ask for _that_? How could he actually form the words he’d not even found until he met these men, words that had been buried deep within him under so many layers of shame, guilt and fear, they’d been impossible to see.  
  
I’m not good on my own.  
  
I need a firm hand.  
  
I need… need someone to tell me what to do and how to do it.  
  
I want to be with someone, be someone for another person.  
  
I want to be held, cared for, get a good spanking and comfort.  
  
I want to belong. Be loved.  
  
“Ye’re not answering, Juicy. Ye can’t?”  
  
Juice simply shook his head, because no, he really couldn’t. The words were stuck in his chest, glued onto his lungs and hurt with every breath. Daddy stroke his hair.  
  
“Well then… I guess the rod will have to do the talking first. Unbotton yer pants and bend over my lap, boy.”  
  
He obeyed and Daddy adjusted him again before pulling the panties down. The chastity device was still firmly in place and Daddy didn’t remove it, maybe that was for the best. But he did hold a hand in Juice’s hair for a little while before taking the rod. There was a sound and a moment later, it landed with horribly well aim onto his already sore buttocks.  
  
Juice whimpered into the bend of his arm and the rod landed a second time. Daddy didn’t lecture or talk now, he just kept spanking with that perfect sting that had Juice writhe and sob within a handful strikes. Not that it stopped Daddy, who only pressed him firmer onto his own body, easy like Juice had been of actual childsize and somehow his body seem to have stop fighting. He just laid there and took it, crying hot tears of something that was shame and pain, but most of all relief.  
  
The emotion was creeping closer with every firm blow and he didn’t writhe anymore, only shuddered and whimpered, sometimes whining loud from the burn, or even spoke words he was barely aware of. It wasn’t excitement, just a complete and actually terrifying release of emotions he’d not even realised he’d been holding back. Had he not been held over Daddy’s lap, he’d probably had a panic attack, but all Juice felt now, was physical pain and sweet, sweet release from his own head.


	16. Filip

His lad wouldn’t be able to sit anymore today. Filip held the shaking, sore body in his arms, careful not to touch the bottom that looked like something a three-year-old would’ve painted with a bright red crayon. He almost felt regretful because his lil’ one probably wouldn’t sit tomorrow either. At least not any longer moments.  
  
It wasn’t what Filip had wanted, but it had been necessary. His lil’ one maybe wasn’t even aware of all the things he’d blurted out, during the last moments before he was just giving himself over to the feelings. All the fear for being left alone, for Filip and Ronea to leave him, to not find him good enough for them. How lonely he felt whenever he went home from them, or just got home from work. That no matter how much time he spent working in the garage, riding his bike, going to the gym, hang out with friends drinking or playing video games or sitting with his computor programming, he always dreaded the moment when he would have to be alone.  
  
His poor Juicyboy felt so lonely and afraid and instead of seeking comfort, he mistook the natural human need for support, for weakness, greed and selfishness. It wasn’t a question of some usual cautiousness or bad confidence. Juice was simply not able to see himself as important to anyone and that was nothing but heartbreaking. But it was all so much clearer now, Filip mused as he kept petting the shuddering, weeping boy. He had been blind to the extent of Juice’s abandonment issues but no more.  
  
First of all, Juice couldn’t go back home to his lonely apartment this Sunday. That was just out of the question, with the way he was feeling now and frankly, if he caught the flu, then so be it. He shouldn’t even be sleeping alone and until Ronea felt better, Juice would be sleeping with Filip. No more spankings for a while and no further punishment either like writing lines or wearing nappies. No sex, of course, because in that state of mind, he reminded of a young Ronea using sex to curb damaging thoughts, which in Filip’s experience was equally, if not more damaging than the actual thoughts themselves.  
  
Yes, sex was definitely off the map for a while. What Juice needed was lots of rest, food and drink that was gentle to his stomach, safe, loving and supporting company that didn’t demand things of him and something that would distract him in a good way. A clear, predictable schedule was another important thing. His poor laddie desperately needed guidance, some extra stability and predictability. But most of all, he needed his Papi.  
  
Filip was cuddly, sure, but Ronea was nurturing in a way that their lad simply craved just as much as the firmness. He didn’t function without both of them and trying to keep Ronea in bed once he knew how bad his baby boy felt, would be impossible. The idea of simply not telling him didn’t even cross Filip’s mind. That would keep his husband in bed, sure, but it would also be lying, a betryal of trust and wake up not only mama bear, but a very pissed off viper too. The last thing any of them needed, was a completely unnecessary marital conflict on top of their lil’ one’s mess.  
  
The boy in question was still crying, heart-wrenchingly so, and Filip rocked him slowly in his arms, shushed and kissed him, not to make the tears stop but to reassure Juice that he was still there, that he hadn’t left him alone. He’d even try not to leave his lil’ one’s sight for more than a few minutes at a time today and only when it was necessary. Ronea would agree.  
  
“My lil’ lovey… Darlin’ boy… Daddy’s here, ye’re not alone an’ yer Daddies are gonnae take care o’ ye. Gonnae be better Daddies from now on, better listeners… I had no idea ye felt this bad, not to this extent, my poor lad.”  
  
A heavy sob that almost sounded like “sorry” had Filip shush him gently again.  
  
“Nonono, lil’ one. No appologies, I’m not scolding at ye, sweetheart. I’m not angry or disappointed with ye. Ye took yer spanking so well, I know it was hard today, ye’re not even gonnae sit for a couple of days, but I’ll take such good care o’ ye.”  
“What… what about work?”  
“Juicyboy, ye’re absolutely not in shape for work now. Call in sick.”  
“But I’m not… really sick, Daddy.”  
“Yer tummy an’ stress levels disagree an’ so does Daddy. An’ do ye really think Papi would allow ye leaving the house when ye’re in a state like this?”  
  
It wasn’t meant as a threat or a change of their agreement and Filip nuzzled Juice’s neck.  
  
“Ye’re of course free to leave if ye really don’ wannae be here, laddie. Didn’t mean it like disempowering or keeping ye locked up here, I’d never ever do that, not even to keep yer Papi from going all mama bear raging on me. But we’d both be _extremely_ worried if ye decide to leave on Sunday or go to work on Monday. Ye’re absolutely not fit to be on yer own now, not jus’ because of yer sore bottom, I can tell ye tha’ as an old medic worker.”   
  
The sigh that came from the lad was a little too short, the calm hadn’t set yet.  
  
“How would ye feel ‘bout making a temporary change in our agreement, so ye can stay here for a while? I know yer self-hatred wont agree, but wha’ of the lil’ lad who needs his Daddies?”  
“Y-your boy wants… wants to be here, Daddy, but… but…”  
“Take yer time, Juicy. Daddy’s listening.”  
“I… P-please don’t spank me again, but…”  
“Shh, lovey, shh… No more spankings and no more nappies unless ye actually need one for medical reasons, no scolding or any other punishment for Daddy’s good boy now. Tell Daddy wha’ ye need.”  
“I… Juicy _boy_ wants to be here, but Juice Ortiz is… is afraid he’d be… he’d be… in the way.”  
  
Filip realised his poor lad probably didn’t know what he’d been saying during the last part of the spanking and maybe that was just as well. Juice wasn’t emotionally equipped to deal with too many truths right now, he needed nothing but love, comfort and assurance. Filip pulled him a little closer, pressing him against his own body.  
  
“Ye’re _never_ in the way, my love. Tha’s not why we have the agreement of staying out of each others’ lives in-between our time together. Me and Papi never stop caring an’ loving, or longing for ye when ye’re not here. Don’ even for a second think tha’ we didn’t fall high over heels for ye an’ are both very much in love with ye. Our relationship with ye, is a very serious one, little darlin’, tha’s why we’re so careful for all of us not to jump in too fast in anything we’re not comfortable with, especially for yer sake. It’s one thing to have regular time together away from the everyday life, but living like yer Daddies do, is a very different thing.”  
“You can decide for me, Daddy. I trust you.”  
  
Filip shook his head and kissed Juice’s teary cheek.  
  
“Believe me, laddie, I understand where tha’ wish come from, I really do. But it’s not a healthy way of forming a relationship. To give up a part of yer freedom the way Papi has, takes a lot of hard work, thinking an’ constant, open communication. T’is difficult enough when ye’re two. With three, ye have to think a bit differently.”  
“Sorry, Daddy.”  
“Don’ appologise, Juicy, ye’ve done nothing wrong. In fact, I’m very grateful tha’ ye’re talking about these things with me. It helps all three of us.”  
“Wha’s gonna happen now, Daddy?”  
“Right now, ye’re gonnae blow yer nose an’ let me put aloe on an’ in yer bottom. Then ye’re gonnae have a nap until lunch while I catch up on some bookkeeping an’ keep an eye on ye. Tha’ sounds good to ye, laddie?”  
“Yes, Daddy. Thank you for spanking me. Hurt a lot, but it made me feel... better.”  
“I can see tha’ an’ I’m very happy about it. I’m getting aloe an’ tissues for ye, so jus lay still here, okay?”  
“Yes, Daddy.”  
  
Filip left and returned with the tissues, lotion bottle and syringe and when Juice had blown his nose, he turned onto his side.  
  
“Wannae check yer temperature first, lad.”  
“Okay, Daddy.”  
  
The sweet boy was out of reach for his usual embarressment in the afterglow of a spanking and didn’t whine when Filip slipped the thermometer inside. He clenched, probably involuntarily, but since he was caged it didn’t matter. He wasn’t fit to be fucked for a while, but maybe, if he got a little better and didn’t misbehave, Filip could let him use a toy later on. Right now though, he was too puffy and sore.  
  
Still no fever and Filip kissed his boy’s hip when he took the thermometer out.  
  
“No fever. Good boy, Juicy. I’ll push the syringe in now, okay?”  
“Okay, Daddy.”   
  
That went just as well and Filip made sure to get as much of the soothing balm inside as possible. It leaked a bit, but that didn’t matter.  
  
“Daddy?”  
“Aye, lovey?”  
“Can I… have a diaper?”  
“Ye _want_ a nappy?”  
“N-not _on_ me, jus’… between m’legs. I’m so tired, Daddy and… Don’t wanna risk ruining… the couch an’ I hate it when tha’ aloe smears.”  
“Of course, lil’ one. But ye can remove it if ye want to.”  
“Thank you, Daddy.”  
  
Filip fetched another nappy and placed it gently between his lad’s thighs.  
  
“There ye go. Better?”  
“Yes, thank you, Daddy.”  
“Ye want a blanket, lil’ one?”  
“Uh-huh, jus’ not on… my butt. Too sore, Daddy.”  
“I know, Juicyboy, but it’ll do ye good in the long run.”  
“Mhm…”  
  
The lil’ one sure was tired when he didn’t bother with a correct answer. In fact, he seemed to be on the brink of sleep and Filip tucked him in with a blanket as well as wiped his face with a cool cloth. The small hum was the only thing Juice seemed able to produce right now, so utterly exhausted as he was. Filip leaned down to kiss his cheek and before he’d even straighten up again, his sweet, worried little boy was fast asleep.


	17. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mama bear is awake and he's NOT happy...

“Juicy? Wake up, laddie…”  
“Mm… Daddy…?”  
“Aye, t’is me, lil’ one. Look at Daddy.”  
  
He opened his eyes partly, squinting at the light and Daddy’s face.   
  
“Did I… fall asleep…?”  
“Aye, darlin’. Been sleeping for a coupla hours now an’ it’s almost lunch time.”  
“Not… that hungry, Daddy.”  
“I know, laddie, but I’ve made some very light and tummy friendly veggie soup an’ vanilla pudding for ye.”  
“You… _cooked_ , Daddy? Like… for real?”  
  
Daddy chuckled at his surprise.  
  
“We can make exceptions when necessary, as ye know. It’s yer Papi’s recipes, of course, particularly good for baby boy’s with sore tummies an’ bottoms.”   
  
Juice grimazed.  
  
“Not even sure if… if I can sit properly, Daddy.”  
“Which is why Daddy’s gonnae feed ye on the couch. How are ye feeling now?”  
“Sore an’ tired. Gotta pee.”  
“Then do tha’ before lunch. Think it’ll be good if ye lay on yer other side for a while too. Ye can throw the nappy away, but ye don’ have to wear anything else. Covering with the blanket is enough for now.”  
“Yes, Daddy. Thank you.”  
“Ye’re welcome. Go on an’pee, lil’ one an’ don’ forget to wash yer hands.”  
“No, Daddy.”  
  
He was a bit of a cleaning freak, he’d never forget washing his hands, but Daddy was babying him a bit now and Juice wasn’t inclined to question it. He was a little wingly at first, but found his feet quickly and walked to the bathroom. Wearing only a tanktop, he really looked a bit funny and his ass was deeply red and very sore. Sitting would be intolerable now.  
  
When he padded back, Daddy put a tray with a large cup of steaming soup, a glass of iced water and a dessert bowl with vanilla pudding at the coffee table. Juice made his huge, worried eyes.  
  
“Can I really eat on the couch, Daddy?  
“Yes, baby, can he really?”  
  
Juice turned around and saw Papi in the doorway, dressed in his black satin robe over his pajama pants.  
  
“Papi!”  
  
He was way too happy to see Papi to care about manners and quickly left the couch with only a small grimaze, practically running into his arms.  
  
“Oof! Hey there, baby boy… My little love, c’mere…”  
“Wha’ are ye doing outta bed, baby?”  
“I’m down to 100,3 now, Filip.”  
“Which is still fever.”  
“Add it to the next time you correct me, old man.”  
“Oh, ye can count on it. An’ the sass too.”  
  
But Papi didn’t seem to worry about _his_ ass in the slightest right now. He held Juice close, kissing his and nuzzling his hair.  
  
“Papi’s little love, sweet baby boy, I’m so happy you’re here. But Filip, what’s he wearing, love?”  
“Uhm… Don’ think pants is an option right now, lovey.”  
“Then why in the whole world did you not get him one of my long shirts from the clean laundry?”  
“I’ll get one right away, _ma’m_.”  
  
Papi only huffed and kept rocking Juice. He felt so warm and soft and just… oh, Daddy was the best in his way, but sometimes Papi’s hugs were simply the best. Juice buried his face onto Papi’s chest.  
  
“Daddy spanked Juicy, Papi.”  
“I can see that, baby boy. Wait… Lord almighty! Filip! _Filip Telford-Tully!_ ”  
“Wha’s wrong, lovey?”  
  
Daddy’s voice sounded a bit worried from Papi’s sharp yelling and he came hurrying back from the laundry room.  
  
“Don’t you _dare_ ‘lovey’ me, Filip. Look at him! He’s _bruised_.”  
“Ronea, darlin’, I can assure ye there’s a good explanation an’ we’ll take it in a while. In private.”  
“Well… You better have a fucking _flawless_ explanation, Mr. Telford.”  
  
Juice swallowed and clutched Papi’s robe.  
  
“P-please, don’t yell, Papi? Makes Juicy… scared.”  
“Shh, baby boy. No worries, okay? We’re not fighting, sweetheart.”   
“J-Juicy n-needed it, Papi. Hurt b-badly, but Juicy n-needed all of it. His head w-was _bad_ this t-time.”  
“Hey, calm down now, sweetheart. Shh, don’t cry, nothing bad’s gonna happen. C’mon, get the shirt on now. Filip, get him some ice. Jesus Christ, husband, where’s your head?”  
“I’m sorry, Ronea, I didn’t think. Sorry, lil’ one, Daddy was thoughtless.”  
“Juicy’s f-fine, Daddy. Papi, p-please don’t b-be mad.”  
“I’m not mad, baby boy.”  
“You are though, Papi…”  
  
That actually had both Daddy and Papi chuckle. Papi kissed his forehead and took the shirt.  
  
“Arms up, sweetheart. Filip, since when are we keeping ice three steps from the couch?”  
“Sorry, darlin’, on my way.”  
  
Papi pulled the shirt over Juice’s head and kissed him again.  
  
“There we go, my little love. That’s better. You want Papi to help you with the lunch?”  
“B-but you’re sick, Papi.”  
“A little snotty, but I’m way better than this morning, not to mention yesterday, baby boy. Don’t you worry about me, I can handle myself and you – and your Daddy – perfectly well, I assure you. Now lay down again, sweetheart.”  
  
Juice curled back carefully on the couch and then Daddy came back with a bag of ice swept in a clean kitchen towel, and an apologetic smile.   
  
“Daddy’s sorry for not thinking of the ice before, laddie.”  
“S’okay, Daddy. Juice was sleeping anyway.”  
  
He hissed a little as Daddy lifted the blanket and placed the bag onto his ass. Daddy gave him a small peck on the lips and stroke his hair again. Then he looked at his, if not angry so at least highly unpleased husband.  
  
“Ye wannae help him with lunch, lovey?”  
  
His voice was very soft now, clearly apologetic and that seemed to calm Papi, who nodded and gave half a smile.  
  
“Yes, I’d like that, baby.”  
  
He didn’t sound angry anymore, merely tired and Daddy kissed him too. Papi was still not happy with him, but there seemed to be no further risk for an argument, at least not in front of their boy. Juice tugged a little a Papi’s sleeve.  
  
“J-Juicy _hates_ it when Papi and Daddy are mad…”  
“Oh, I’m not mad to the point of throwing your Daddy out of bed, sweet boy. C’mere.”  
  
Papi hugged his boy _and_ husband for a moment and Juice instantly felt calmer. Then, Papi nuzzled his neck.  
  
“Let me help you get some soup in that tiny tum of yours, baby boy.”  
“O-okay, Papi.”  
  
The stutter was still lingering, but when were done hugging, it felt better and Daddy ruffled his hair, smiling.  
  
“I’ll leave ye for some Papi time, then. Ronea, I’ll change the bed sheets for ye.”  
“But…”  
“Ye’re still feverish, darlin’, an’ wha’ I say goes.”  
“Yes, Filip. Of course.”  
  
Daddy winked.  
  
“At least most o’ the time…”


	18. Ronea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not always easy to be a top and a Daddy, especially when you wake up Mama Bear...

Ronea Telford-Tully very rarely cried apart from in the aftermath of a spanking session, which was one of the reasons his husband took him over his knee every Friday. It was as much an instrument for emotional release as it was chastisement and going without it was unnerving to say the least. Just talking simply didn’t do the trick and still, after more than twenty years together, there was this old block Ronea couldn’t pass by his own.  
  
Years of both emotional and physical abuse had taken it’s toll on him, conditioned him a way that not even Filip with all his love and patience could change and after long years of futile fighting they’d both accepted, not defeat but ceasefire on that particular battlefield. That’s why it was extremely surprising for both of them that Ronea, once his baby boy was asleep, went to his walk-in closet, sank down on the floor and burst into tears.  
  
He muffled his cries the best he could, not wanting to draw any attention to himself, especially when Juice needed to be watched over downstairs. Ronea didn’t cry for what his husband had done, at least not much, but over the realisation of how awful their little boy must’ve felt for needing a scalping of that extent.  
  
Filip was always careful not to get them unnecessarily bruised. A deep red tone was one thing, but Juice’s bottom was positively turning blue and to think his baby boy had been so emotionally oppressed he couldn’t bear to speak until that point, was breaking Ronea’s heart. It just shouldn’t happen.  
  
“Ronea, love, please talk to me. Cannae fix this unless we talk, baby. I get tha’ yer angry an’ I don’ blame ye, but at least gimme a chance to explain.”  
“There’s _no_ fucking excuse for this!”  
“Aint excusing myself, lovey, I know I did wrong an’ I need to make it up to our lad an’ to ye, but ye gotta gimme a chance to explain why I did it because tha’s how we do things. Aint telling ye to speak to me or lemme in, but ye’ve vowed to obey yer husband an’ right now I tell ye to simply listen to me.”  
“Yes, _sir_.”  
“Excuse me? Ye really think sass is gonnae help me, ye or our lil’ one right now, husband?”  
  
Ronea gritted his teeth at the sharp tone, but swallowed his anger.  
  
“I am sorry for being sassy, I know it’s disrespectful and although I’m extremely upset with you right now, I know I owe you my respect, since I promised to obey you.”  
“Thank ye, love. I appreciate yer good manners very much, I know I’m not making this easy for ye an’ I accept yer apology.”  
  
His husband was good at balancing on this edge, Ronea gave him that, and the acknowledgement of his struggles and efforts to stay respectful midst roaring anger as well as sickness, helped resetting the boundaries and sense of safety again. Ronea sighed, sniffling.  
  
“I’m ready to listen, Filip.”  
“Thank ye, baby. Our boy, he’s… he’s been holding back a lot, Ronea. More than I could ever imagine, to be honest. I didn’t intend to bruise him an’ usually I’d stopped way earlier, but everytime I hesitated, he went silent an’… an’ I jus’ _knew_ I had to keep makin’ him talk to me. Spanking was the only way.”  
“God…”  
“He hates himself. The things he said ‘bout himself… Mary, Mother o’ Christ, t’was like hearing ye again, at yer lowest. He’s… convinced we’re gonnae leave ‘im, eventually. Tha’ he’s weak, pathetic, worthless, disgusting…”  
  
A sob broke his husband’s even voice and Ronea stiffened.  
  
“Are you crying, Filip?”  
  
His own tears were blinked away in a second and he opened the closet door to scoot out to his husband who was sitting on the floor as well, crosslegged and shaking. Ronea immediately put his arms around him, pulling him close. He was still angry, although it had calmed down a lot from Filip’s shaky explanation and now Ronea could see how utterly hurt his husband was from Juice’s confession.  
  
“He didn’t trust me, Ronea. Didn’t trust me to help him, tha’ I _love_ him. Wha’ kinda top am I if my lover needs to be bruised to open up to me? How did I _miss the signs_ so completely? A complete failure as a top…”  
“Hey… Baby, come here.”  
  
Ronea hugged him tight, the need for scolding gone now, as always when Filip simply admitted he’d fucked up. Neither of them held grudges, that just wasn’t their thing and although their rare actual fights could be a bit rough, they were always solved in time and no wound ever left untreated. From the outside it might look like Filip was shifting focus to himself and his own pain right now, but for the man who knew him better than anyone, it was clear how worried he was for their baby boy.  
  
“He was so miserable when I picked him up… Such a sad, wee muppet, Ronea, I’ve been on the brink of a breakdown for two days now an’… an’ I didn’t mean to take it out on him.”  
  
He’d probably not even been aware of it. Ronea understood better now. Still unacceptable, of course, but Filip was deeply regretful for the extent of spanking he’d given Juice and would, no doubt, make it up to him in any way he could. His strong, dominant husband sniffled a bit and Ronea nuzzled his hair.  
  
“A little fever doesn’t make me incapable of helping you out, baby. I’m your sub, yes, but I’m Juice’s top too. You should’ve come to me first.”  
“I know, lovey, I know. I’m so sorry for not involving ye more.”  
“Don’t beat yourself up over it, baby. And don’t call yourself a failure, because that’s just fucking bullshit, and you know that. You overstepped and you know that and wont do it again, so where do we go from here?”  
“What are yer thoughts, lovey?”  
  
Ronea rubbed his eyes.  
  
“Gotta make a schedule. For Juice. We need a temporary change in our agreement, baby. Until he’s strong enough to be on his own again. I don’t even think he should be working right now.”  
“I agree. He must call in sick. He’s lost weight an’ even without his sore butt, he’s simply not fit for work. But how ‘bout ye? Ye think ye can handle him alone during the days? Ye know how restless he’ll get.”  
  
Now he just snorted.  
  
“I’ve been your fulltime homemaker for fifteen years, Filip. I’m pretty confident I can keep our baby boy occupied. But we need to make a very clear and predictable schedule and I veto spankings for at least a week and alcohol for two.”  
“Yes, ma’m. I’ll see if I can come home earlier from work a coupla times too. Don’t know… maybe take him out the lake or something.”  
“That would be good for him, baby. What about Papi and Daddy time?”  
  
Filip rubbed his chin.  
  
“Well… I think the lad needs someone to sleep with him for a while now, but depending on how he’s feeling further on, maybe we could schedule time for him to sleep in the guestroom too. Until yer cold is gone, I’ll sleep with him in the guestroom, tha’ alright with ye?”  
“Absolutely. Hate to admit it, but I sleep better alone when I’m this snotty.”  
“Me too. I mean, I love ye, but ye’re snoring a lot right now.”  
“I’m not!”  
“Ye are.”  
  
Ronea pouted and elicited that soft, special kind of smile from Filip that was reserved for him alone, which of course made him smile too.  
  
“How about I start on a draft for the schedule while you give our baby boy an apology for the unnecessary roughness, and a well-needed cuddle?”  
“Sounds great, lovey. Ye’re forgiving me, then?”  
“Always, baby. What about you? I was pretty disrespectful.”  
“Ye had yer reasons, Ronea. Aint gonnae discipline ye for being angry ‘cause ye had every right to be, only for the sass. Ye know ye’re not supposed to speak to me like that.”  
“I know and I’m sorry. Do I even dare to ask how much spanking I have coming?”  
  
Filip chuckled and gave his husband a kiss.  
  
“Just as much as ye need an’ deserve, darlin’. No more, no less.”


	19. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daddy is only human, after all...

“Juicyboy…?”  
“Mm… Daddy?”  
“Aye, t’is me. Ye wannae sleep some more, lovey?”  
“Donno…”  
  
He was still kinda sleepy, all snuggled up on the couch and he wasn’t quite as sore right now. At least not if he didn’t put any pressure on his butt. Daddy kissed his hair and Juice looked up.  
  
“Hi, Daddy.”  
“Hey there, lil’ one.”  
“Wha’s wrong, Daddy? You look sad.”  
“Well, Daddy is sad, lil’ one.”  
“Why?”  
  
He hated when Daddy or Papi were sad or worried. It made him feel anxious and looking for a thousand ways to comfort them and he bit his lip, which had Daddy kiss his hair again, shaking his head.  
  
“Ye’ve done nothing wrong, lovey, but Daddy has.”  
“What, Daddy?”  
“I spanked my lil’ one way too hard.”  
  
Daddy took his hand.  
  
“Juicy, darlin’, I don’ regret spanking ye, but I kept going for too long and was too harsh. I shouldn’t have bruised ye like this, even if it made ye open up to me. I was frustrated an’ took it out on ye, which was _very_ wrong of me.”  
  
He stroke his thumb over Juice’s knuckles.  
  
“I’m _really_ sorry for not stopping earlier, lil’ one. I kept going because it made ye talking, but it still wasn’t right and I regret that.”  
“Uhm… Okay, Daddy.”  
“Daddy should’ve found another way to have ye keep talking to me.”  
  
Juice shrugged.  
  
“Don’t even remember what I said, Daddy. Probably just a lot of blabbering.”  
  
He looked at Daddy again and then it hit him.  
  
“Daddy, have you been _crying_?”  
“Aye, lil’ one.”  
  
Juice simply threw himself around Daddy’s neck and pulled him close.   
  
“J-juicy doesn’t want Daddy to cry.”  
“And Daddy didn’t want to hurt his lil’ laddie like this. Can ye forgive me?”  
“Nothing to forgive, Daddy.”  
“Aye, it is, lad.”  
  
Daddy looked serious.   
  
“As yer top, it’s my responsibility to put yer well-being first. I should’ve stopped halfway through it, because I kept spanking ye to have ye talk and, which is way worse, because I was angry and sad for not realising earlier how bad ye’ve been feeling these past weeks.”  
“Oh… But, Daddy, you couldn’t know, ‘cause Juicy didn’t say anything.”  
“Tha’s the problem, Juicy. Somehow, ye’re not feeling safe enough with us to ask for help in time an’ tha’s a problem we have to remedy. As yer and Papi’s top, I’m responsible for providing ye with a safe environment where ye feel free to ask for the things ye need from us. If ye’re afraid of telling us wha’ ye need, we’ve failed, an’ I more so than Papi.”  
  
Juice bit his lip and stroke Daddy’s scarred cheek.  
  
“S’okay, Daddy. Juicy loves you lots and lots.”  
“An’ ye’re degrading to kid’s language, little darlin’, which means ye’re afraid of something. Ye can tell Daddy if ye want, or talk to Papi if tha’s better.”  
“Juicy wants Daddy _and_ Papi now…”  
“Ye need a cuddle, laddie?”  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
Daddy turned towards the door.  
  
“Ronea, baby, our lil’ one needs his Papi.”  
  
The sound of Papi’s quick steps had both Daddy and Juice smile and soon Papi appeared in the doorway, now dressed in loose pants and a grey short-sleeve, looking worried.  
  
“What’s wrong, baby boy?”  
“Nothing, Papi. Juicy just wants a cuddle…”  
“Oh, sweetheart...”  
  
Papi immediately sat down by the couch and put his arms around his boy. Juice snuggled in close and felt how Daddy closed his arms around them both.   
  
He was still fragile, still not sure how to express his needs and the fear of being rejected very much alive, but he could feel that things were good between his Daddies again and right now, for this moment at least, that was all he needed.


	20. Filip/Ronea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit different chapter where there will be both past and present day, as well as both Filip's and Ronea's perspectives. The past parts are all from the same timestamp, which is Filip's and Ronea's second date. If you remember, Filip told Juice in "Well, I wear this fuckin’ mask..." that he scared Ronea away during their first date, but got another chance where he skipped the fancy restaurant shite and took Ronea for a ride instead. 
> 
> Well, this is from that day, and also a bit of much needed Papi/Daddy time (present day, of course) while their beloved Juicyboy takes a nap. I hope it's not too messy. Some TW content, check the tags!

_Present day_  
  
Normally, Filip was very rigid when it came to his husband’s punishments. Every now and then, Ronea needed a spanking simply for emotional relief, but that was a much different thing. Their way of handling this part of their marriage had taken a long time to build up and consistency was key as much as trust. Since it required time, calm and absolute privacy, Filip always spanked his husband on Friday nights, the same day as Filip went to mass.  
  
It was cleansing for him too. Filip didn’t consider himself overly religious at all, but on Friday mornings he went to the early mass before work and even if he didn’t go to confession, he prefered to sit in the quiet chapel and think about his week. How he’d been as a husband, collegue, friend? Lover…? What had he done well and not? Had he been patient, caring, loving and supportive? Had he lived up to the vows he’d given Ronea? Had he deserved his husband’s and lover’s obedience?  
  
He also thought about his husband’s behavior and health. If he’d not done anything to be punished for, then it required a different kind of spanking. They’d tried to simply not have spankings at all if Ronea had been good, but that hadn’t worked. Laying over Filip’s lap, made Ronea feel safe and cared for in a way that neither of them really could put into words. On Friday nights when Filip came home from work, the house smelled from cleaning soap and Ronea was done with his work except dinner and dishes, they turned their phones off and had their weekly talk.  
  
In a way it was like a confession, with Ronea on his knees, telling Filip about his shortcomings and asking for correction. Then Filip would add if he’d noticed any bad behavior during the week and decide a tool and amount of chastisement. He always spanked Ronea on his bare bottom and always over his lap. The intimacy was extremely important, the combination of embarressment and comfort had to be well-balanced and predictable. His husband should never feel threatened or ridiculed, but being allowed to cry or scream all he needed, get all the bad emotions off his chest and feel any burden of guilt and shame lifted.  
  
Afterwards, Ronea would have all the time he needed to just lay in Filip’s arms and get all cried out. It was one of the most precious moments of the week, holding his beloved, submissive husband and physically feel how tension, sorrows, shortcomings and worries melted away from him. To know that he, Filip Telford, had this amazing man’s love and trust to help him with this.  
  
Spanking Ronea turned Filip on a lot, but his husband was a bit different. It wasn’t the spanking in itself that was a kink for him, but the submission. When Filip spanked him, Ronea felt protected and owned, put in place and free from the kind of power he couldn’t handle himself. By spanking him, Filip reassured him that he had control, that he would lead and decide. That the man who’d spent so many years desperately looking for control and safety, could let go and rest. When they were done talking and Ronea stopped crying, quite often Filip would take him hard from behind, asserting his dominance and add the sweetest words he could come up with in contrast to the hard thrusts, turning Ronea into a shuddering mess of pleasure.  
  
As it was right now, Ronea was way more tense than he realised himself. Not that he had to, it was Filip’s job to read him, after all. Juice was asleep again, poor wee lad, but it gave Filip the time he needed to take care of his big boy. He slicked the thermometer and slowly pressed it into his stressed out husband’s hole, stroking the small of his back a little.  
  
“So tense, lovey…”  
“It’s been too long, Filip.”  
“I know, baby, I know... I’ll give ye a massage once ye’ve been on yer feet for a few days, okay?”  
“Okay, love.”  
  
No fever now and Filip could barely stop a smile when seeing his husband’s relief. It wasn’t really appropriate, but Ronea was so bloody cute when he yerned for a spanking. Filip planted a small kiss between his shoulderblades.  
  
“All knotted up, Ronea… “  
  
His husband had been so tense when they first met. Layers and layers of fear and hurt to dig through and there were still markings. He knew Juice had commented them on at least one occasion, the white scars that once had looked like claw marks, left there by a cat o’ nine tail in an anything but controlled hand.  
  
No gentleness, no kindness, no love. Only abuse. Physical, psychological. Sexual…  
  
***  
_  
Lodi, 24 years earlier_  
  
**Filip**  
“Hi, handsome.”  
“Ye came.”  
“Question is, will I stay?”  
  
It didn’t really feel too awkward, not with the way Ronea smiled. It had a teasing edge to it and he clearly had his guards up, but Filip couldn’t blame him. The beautiful, sexy man had, at least not recently, not a very good history with guys and it was actually pretty brave of him to show up.  
  
Filip handed him the other helmet.  
  
“Ye’ve ridden before?”  
“Nope. You’re not planning on drinks now, right? I mean…”  
  
He looked nervous and Filip opened the saddlebag.  
  
“Beers an’ some of the good, green stuff.”  
“No Scotch?”  
“Not when I have a passenger.”  
“You’re a responsible motherfucker, _sister_.”  
“Aye, darlin’. I am.”  
  
It was difficult to read him. Filip wanted nothing more than kissing him, but he seemed tense and it was probably better to wait.  
  
“Where are we going?”  
“Was thinking Lodi lake.”  
  
Ronea just nodded, smiling again took the helmet on.  
  
“Well, you’ve gotta teach me how to move along with this beast, ‘cause the closest thing to one of these I’ve ridden, is my uncle’s old dirtbike when I was eight. So you better keep to the speed limit.”  
“Always do… When I have a passenger.”  
  
The skittish man straddled Filip’s Dyna and the amount of tension became very obvious.  
  
“The most important is to move _with_ the bike, not against it. An’ ye gotta scoot a bit closer, squeeze with yer knees an’ hold around my waist. Aye, tha’s better. Ye’re ready?”  
“Aye, Scotty.”  
“Good, _ma’m_.”  
  
He could tease as well and he felt more than heard the low chuckle from Ronea as he started the engine and kicked off.  
  
For someone who’d never ridden before, Ronea was a good passenger. He held on tight but didn’t seem afraid and he kept his hips and thighs firmly pressed to Filip’s, moving with him. To be honest, Filip hadn’t given a guy a ride before, if you didn’t count friends. Lasses, sure, but that was inevitable when you were in an MC club. Bobby and Tig knew Filip didn’t swing that way and John, their president, was unusually tolerant on this issue. It was a bit of don’t ask don’t tell thing, but Filip knew there wouldn’t be a problem as long as it was handled with discretion. After all, they had other reasons to keep a low profile.  
  
The ride didn’t take too long, which was a pity since Ronea seemed to relax a bit more with every mile, and the early night had a nice air. Filip knew a good spot where they’d be left alone, at least unless they were really unlucky and when he parked, he turned around.  
  
“Ye’re good?”  
“Yeah, I’m not made of glass, you know.”  
“No, I meant the spot.”  
“Oh. Yeah, it’s nice.”  
“S’not too off?”  
  
What he meant was: do you feel safe here with a man you’ve only met a handful of times. Ronea removed his helmet, the long hair getting messy and he made a mock pout.  
  
“My hair’s a _disaster_! Where’s the nearest salon?”  
“Have a comb in my cut…”  
  
Ronea gave him a look that reminded so much of one of Filip’s sassy, middleage female collegue’s at the hospital, he couldn’t stop a chuckle. He really liked this man. There was just something so… challenging about him. He stopped smiling and bit his underlip.  
  
“Sorry ‘bout the restaurant, Filip…”  
“Me too. Thought I’d scared ye off. I’ve never really been into dating. Things are a wee bit different in Glasgow an’ Belfast. Well, especially Belfast…”  
“You have family there?”  
“No, thank God. A couple o’ friends, but… Bloody depressing subject. Point is, my dates mostly have been ‘bout snoggin’ an’ shaggin’ in alleys before I came here.”  
“Snogging and shagging?”  
“Making out and fucking.”  
  
He blushed and Ronea laughed.  
  
“We need a dictionary.”  
  
They sat down on the grass, opened their first beers and halfway in, when they still didn’t talk much and Filip wasn’t sure how Ronea felt about him, the place or anything at all, he offered him a joint which was accepted with a big smile.  
  
“You brought the good stuff.”  
“Bobby knows a guy.”  
“Who’s Bobby?”  
“One of my mates. From the club.”  
“They know you’re letting a guy ride bitch on your badass bike?”  
“Bobby and Tig know. Hardly think our pres cares an’ the rest o’ them will have to get used to it, I guess.”  
“You’re with chicks for show, huh?”  
  
Filip shrugged.  
  
“Sometimes, aye. I mean… not if I’m _with_ someone, ye know. Sure we’re not too off here?”  
“Why would it be too off?”  
“Well… We don’ really know each other an’…”  
“Filip, stop. I’m fine, I really am. It’s just… I donno, been a long time since I’ve been away from Lodi at all, you know. At least…”  
“Without _him_?”  
“Yes…”  
“Ye’re still seeing him? I don’ mean to snoop, I’m just…”  
“Don’t think seeing him is the right word for it.”  
  
Ronea rubbed his arms a bit, as if he was freezing, and sucked slowly on the joint.  
  
“He’s out fucking whoever he wants and I couldn’t care less as long as he doesn’t catch something. He’s a freak with condoms, that’s one of his better sides. Probably the best…”  
“Sorry for… bringing tha’ shite up.”  
  
Ronea shook his head, smiling again.  
  
“Actually, I’m glad you did. Would’ve been hanging over us like some goddamn cartoon cloud had you not brought it up. I’m clean and he wont show up here with a gun.”  
**  
Ronea**  
The weed helped, as did the environment. It was calm, with the lake and the trees and the lack of people close. The risk of being seen here by any of Aaron’s friends, was pretty much non-existent and Filip was a guy Ronea felt he could have a good chance against if things got nasty. He almost felt bad for thinking like that about the Scot, but considering how they’d met, Ronea guessed he wouldn’t be offended.  
  
Talking without really having to pretend, felt strange, but not bad. After all, Filip had guessed immediately what was going on and even though they avoided the subject as much as they could without feeling weird(er), it wasn’t a secret. Chattering about bikes and cars, their daily lives and a bit of their backgrounds was easier than he’d expected. Not tentative but really chattering about, getting to know one another. He found out that Filip had gotten his scars when he was attacked outside a night club in Glasgow by some asshole thinking he was onto his girlfriend.  
  
The scars weren’t ugly and had healed pretty well considering how bad it could’ve ended. Filip even laughed about the irony, that he who’d barely stepped out of the closet at the time and was shy as hell with both sexes, had been seen as a threat simply for standing too close to someone’s girlfriend on an already crowded sidewalk.  
  
“Could’ve been a lot worse. Mates call me Chibs ever since, but tha’ was pretty much a given.”  
“Chips?”  
“Naw, Chibs. Scottish slang for stabbing.”  
“How outlaw.”  
“Aye, sounds like some bad 80’s action shite.”  
  
Ronea laughed.  
  
“Well, it’s better than mine. Aaro… Most people insist on calling me Roney.”  
“Did I even pronounce it correctly? Row-ni-yah?”  
“Yeah, it’s correct. Weird fucking name, don’t know what my folks were thinking.”  
“I like yer name. Unusual.”  
“It’s Hebrew and we’re not even Jewish, but Ohio white trash.”  
  
He made a grimaze.  
  
“God, why do I always end up talking about depressing shit. I’m sorry, Filip, I guess I’m just not a very funny guy.”  
“Do I look bored or depressed to ye?”  
  
Warm, dark eyes. A genuine smile. Hands that hadn’t touched and a fit body that kept distance. Not pushing or crowding. It was fucking crazy, but Ronea felt safe with him. Filip looked away.  
  
“Been saving for surgery…”  
“Surgery?”  
“Aye. Will take some years, but maybe it’ll make me look a wee bit more… normal.”  
“I like them. I mean… I don’t like that you got them, if you know what I’m saying, but they aint ugly.”  
  
Ronea was blushing now, he could feel it, but fuck it. He got his mask back on, smiling.  
  
“You’re a catch, Filip. Which is why I’m… really not sure what the fuck you see in some high heel Ohio pussy like me.”  
  
Filip lit a smoke now, scowling under his floppy hair.  
  
“Ye should like yerself a bit more, darlin’.”  
  
He offered Ronea a smoke and then lit it for him.  
  
“Trust me, there’s a lot to like.”  
  
His accent was pretty hot, but there was something else about his voice that seemed to put a hold on Ronea’s flight instinct. It was so calm, soothing even. Like he was used to speak his mind about things without getting insecure about it. Filip Telford, Ronea reckoned, was a man who knew who he was and what he wanted. Patient and relaxed, used to be in charge but not bossy.  
  
He swallowed hard.  
  
“What do you want from me, Filip?”  
  
The man still looked calm and he turned around to sit face to face. He took a blow on his smoke.  
  
“Well… as I guess ye’ve already figured out, I like ye a lot. Ye’re smart, funny, nice an’ whether ye believe it or not, pure tidy.”  
“ _Tidy?_ ”  
“Fuck, another word for the dictionary…”  
  
Fiilip blushed.  
  
“In Scotland, tidy is a slang for... well… pretty, lovely an’ so on. Gotta get ye a dictionary, I mean, if I’m not screwing this up which I’m…”  
  
Ronea internally rolled his eyes and leaned over, interrupting the nervous Scot with the most effective thing he could come up with.  
  
Normally, Ronea wasn’t that into kissing, it had mostly been a gateway to fucking, but after the initial surprise, Filip stubbed out his smoke on the ground and carefully put a warm hand on Ronea’s head. He was slow, fucking tender, and the taste of him was very masculine.  
  
As they slowly let go, breathing and for a moment unable to look at each other, Ronea sighed.  
  
“I’ve wanted that… since you gave me your number at the E.R.”  
  
**Filip**  
He had to go slow. The man he’d fantazised about for so many weeks, wore his mask of strenght and confidence so well it was bloody scary. Admitting weakness wasn’t an option in Ronea’s life, the hours of talking had confirmed that. And in the same time, it was so obvious now, at least to Filip, how vulnerable he actually was.  
  
They were laying in the grass, just kissing and cuddling. Everytime Ronea tensed, Filip paused whatever he was doing and although they weren’t actually talking, they seemed able to communicate. Whenever he stopped moving, Ronea would take his hands and show how and where he wanted to be touched. By proceeding slow and listening to his breaths and the way his body moved, Filip discovered soreness without having to remove clothes.  
  
He learned that there were bruises on Ronea’s hips, that Filip’s medic training translated to a far too brutal grabbing during sex. He learned that placing a palm on the small of his back, made the skittish man relaxed as long as it stayed there and didn’t slide too much. That there were scars beneath the tanktop, probably old enough to have turned white, but wouldn’t fade completely. He learned that it was easier to let Ronea do a trial and error with Filip’s body, instead of returning the favor and take his wrists to tell by showing. They laid on their sides and when Filip saw that Ronea looked a little too tense, he laid down on his back a reached his arm out.  
  
Ronea hesitated a second before following him, carefully laying down on Filip’s arm and Filip looked him in the eye.  
  
“Ye okay, darlin’?”  
  
Ronea nodded, but he still seemed worried and Filip took his hand.  
  
“Ye don’ have to believe me, ‘cause ye really don’ have any reason to, yet, but I’d never ever hurt ye, Ronea. _Ever_.”  
“I… I know.”  
“Aye?”  
“Yeah. Just… I trust you, I’m just a bit sore, okay, so you gotta… go slow.”  
  
The shame was written all over Ronea’s beautiful face and there was no need for further explanation but Filip realised, horrified, that although Ronea had left the asshole and some bruises took a long time to heal, this wasn’t just about bruises.  
  
“Ronea…”  
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”  
  
Ronea tried to sound firm, but his voice was just a whisper and Filip was lost for words. He held the man close, just hugged him really, rocking the sore, beautiful body in his arms. He could feel tears burning under his own eyelids. Ronea took a deep breath.  
  
“I… I’m clean, though. Just so you know that. Give pretty good blow jobs, I’ve heard. Unless, I mean, if you wanna end this right now, because I really wouldn’t blame you if you…”  
“Please, stop, darlin’.”  
  
He couldn’t bare hearing the self-contempt. He’d known it was there, at least to some extent, but not like this.  
  
His baby had been bruised, kicked and whipped. He’d been raped. He was badly hurt.  
  
“Don’t pity me.”  
  
He was stronger, braver than anyone Filip had met.  
  
“Don’t you fucking _dare_ pitying me, Filip Telford. If you wanna end this now, then end it, but I can’t stand being pitied. Not from you.”  
“I don’ pity ye, Ronea.”  
  
He didn’t know how he found his voice, how he managed to keep it steady.  
  
“I don’ pity ye an’ I _don’_ wannae end this. I… I don’ care wha’s happened to… fuck, tha’ came out wrong… I meant tha’… I can wait, darlin’. I want ye. I like ye, hell, I’m in love with ye, alright? An’ I’m _really_ bad at knowing how to handle this kinda shite, I mean… _Ye’re_ not shite, tha’s not wha’ I’m saying, at all, ‘cause… ”  
  
He couldn’t find words, he was breathing heavily, not from arousal and anticipation, but from an anger and sorrow he didn’t know how to express.  
  
“You… you still want this?”  
  
That voice. Not confident, sassy or raspy. Just incredulous. Surprised for not being left or accused. _Ye’re mine_ , Filip wanted to say, but that was wrong. It would be wrong to say, because it wasn’t true, even if he didn’t mean it like that. Ronea was his, in the sense that he was the only one and had been ever since the E.R.  
  
You still want this? _This_ , not _me_. Under the confidence and even the strenght, there was hurt, wounds going deeper than anyone could imagine. And still, Filip realised with amazement despite the shock and horror, _still_ he dared to take the risk. Ronea wanted him. And he wanted Ronea.  
  
“I want ye, lovey. But not until ye’re okay.”  
“Might take a while.”  
“I’m not jus’ a responsible motherfucker, I’m patient as well.”  
  
There it was again. The smile. Relieved, bright despite the darkness surrounding them.  
  
“Then maybe you could show me.”  
“Show ye what?”  
  
Fingers swirling around his own.  
  
“How to have some fun while still being patient and responsible…”  
  
**Ronea**  
In the past, not only with Aaron, there’d always been an element of discomfort with sex. Ronea didn’t really know why, but the guys – and occasional girls – he’d been with had, even during the best circumstances and great orgasms, never felt quite… right. Like he had to be watchful even if it didn’t hurt or feel bad. As if there was only a small part of him actually present in his body while the rest of him was on high alert for potential trouble.  
  
Filip was patient. He took the lead so naturally, without any haste or irritation. Ronea closed his eyes, feeling how slow and careful the warm hands went, first under his shirt and a little while later under the tanktop. The tips of his fingers were light and warm, avoiding bruises with ease and reading tension and sudden moves like an open book.  
  
The sensations made Ronea’s body relax and react as it should, as it had done before Aaron had become an asshole, before it had learned to be prepared for pain. He started to move againts the touches, to meet them and actually feel it. Filip’s cock was hard, grinding slowly against his own and it felt good, better than he’d thought. Filip nuzzled his ear.  
  
“Can I touch ye? Use my hand…?”  
“Yeah…”  
  
He’d been prepared for a shoving down his pants, but Filip just cupped him outside, letting out a low moan as he rubbed the bulge.  
  
“Shite, ye’re _huge_ , lovey…”  
“Lucky for you, you don’t have to take it.”  
  
He was teasing him, but Filip stopped and looked at him.  
  
“I’m not really passive, baby, but I still enjoy taking it every once in a while. Especially if it’s yers.”  
“I don’t fuck. I… I really don’t. Haven’t since I was like seventeen.”  
“Oh. Well, tha’s alright, of course. If ye don’ like it, ye don’.”  
  
Ronea bit his lip.  
  
“I like… Damnit, I’m not _doing_ the fucking, Filip. I’m a sub, alright? If… if you want my cock up your ass, you’ve gotta ride me. Doesn’t work otherwise… It’s hard to explain.”  
“Ye don’ wannae be on top? Literally?”  
“I don’t. Is… is that alright with you?”  
“More than alright, lovey. More than alright…”  
  
**Filip**  
He couldn’t believe his luck. Filip wasn’t one to believe in destiny but this was simply too perfect. It wasn’t that often that he wanted to switch, in fact it was pretty rare, and especially if the bloke he’d been with prefered to be passive. It was already dark, which was probably good, but Filip wanted to see Ronea’s face.  
  
It felt important for some reason and as it had been a long time since Filip had cock up his arse and Ronea wasn’t small, he prepped himself with his fingers first, using a generous amount of lube as Ronea watched him with what could only be described as hunger. He’d not taken his pants off, only scooted them down and Filip chucked his own jeans and shorts. When he saw Ronea’s hesitation, he leaned down to kiss him.  
  
“Leave’em on if ye wan’ to. S’okay, darlin’.”  
“Yeah?”  
“Aye.”  
  
Ronea just nodded then, only opening his buttons and took his cock out, but not scooting his pants down. He took the rubber and lube from Filip and coated himself too, not wanting to cause him any pain. Filip straddled him, rubbed Ronea’s cock a while between his arse cheeks and then, very slowly, took it down.  
  
They both hissed as he lowered himself, Ronea looked both worried and eager and once Filip had gone all almost all the way down, feeling his baby’s throbbing cock stretching him out nicely, he leaned forward, cradling Ronea’s head in his arms and pulling him close enough to nuzzle his ear. Still dominant, still guiding and comforting.  
  
“S’it easy enough on yer hips, lovey?”  
“Yeah… God, this… this was a _fucking_ long time ago…”  
“Ye don’ say… Feels good for ye?”  
“Uh-huh. Just…”  
“Wha’, baby?”  
“Hold me?”  
  
He’d never done it like this. He was the one taking it, but he still did the fucking. That’s how it felt as Filip arranged them so he could cradle his lover, riding him slow and soft to spare his hips, going as easy as possible on his entire sore body. Filip kissed him, moaning as he lowered further, taking more of him inside.  
  
It wasn’t what he prefered, but he still liked it plenty. He loved feeling Ronea going lax and compliant in his arms, in a way almost more submissive, needing to even the feeling of having his cock ridden out a bit. He leaned into Ronea’s neck, nibbling him.  
  
“I’m riding yer cock, but ye’re not fucking me, are ye, lovey?”  
“No, sir.”  
  
_Mary, Mother o’ Christ._ If this was how the sex would be, Filip would have to get himself a bloody cock ring because if that ‘no sir’ wasn’t a turn-on, he didn’t know what was. He struggled to be gentle with Ronea’s hips now, felt how this gorgeous man clutched the back of his shirt, all but sobbing into his chest.  
  
It was over embarressingly fast, but with so much worry and talking while moving forward, it really was no surprise. Ronea was softening inside him and there were stains on their shirts, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered to Filip in this moment, was the expression of relief and happiness on his lovey’s teary face.  
  
***  
  
_Present day:  
_  
Filip Telford-Tully’s husband was crying and it was the good kind of tears. His bare buttocks were pink, a shade or two lighter than he’d preferred, but they weren’t white anymore and he’d let if not all so at least enough tension off to feel better. Filip pressed a kiss on his shoulder.  
  
“Ye’re okay, lovey?”  
“Y-yes, Filip. I feel… _much_ better. Thank you, baby. Thank you…”  
“My pleasure, sweet husband. My pleasure… Love ye so much, I’m always here for ye… Always…”


	21. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juice wakes up from a long, much needed nap.

Juice didn’t know what time it was when he woke up, only that he felt stiff from his curled position on the couch – and that he had a wet diaper. A part of him wanted to curl up in shattering shame, but at the same time he didn’t really care and that was strange. What was even more strange, was that although he was sore, he barely felt his ass. The diaper should be itching like hell, but it didn’t and what worried him far more than the hated item, was the fact that he felt too heavy to move.  
  
“Daddy? Daddy!”  
“Juicyboy? Ye’re awake?”  
  
The voice came from the kitchen and Juice heard Daddy coming to the livingroom.  
  
“Daddy, I can’t move!”  
“Wha’s the matter, lil’ one? Daddy’s here.”  
  
As soon as Daddy came to the couch, the panic calmed down a notch but Juice still felt anxious.  
  
“What day is it, Daddy?”  
“Still Sunday, lovey.”  
“I have work tomorrow and I’ve not prepared anything and…”  
“Hey, hey. Look at me, lad. Look at Daddy.”  
  
Juice pressed his lips together but looked at his Daddy, tried to use him as a focus point and Daddy cradled his head gently.  
  
“Juicyboy, ye’re not going to work tomorrow, alright. Tha’s not a suggestion from yer lover, but a direct order from yer top.”  
“But…”  
“Listen to me, lovey, so yer poor brain has a chance to find out if there’s anything to actually have a panic attack for, alright?”  
“O-okay, Daddy.”  
“Good boy. Breathe slowly, darlin’, jus’ let Daddy hold ye a moment. Tha’s better… Atta boy, Juicy. _Good boy_.”  
  
Daddy’s voice was always soothing and Juice managed to breathe a little easier, burying his face into the strong chest. Daddy kept petting and rocking him slowly.  
  
“Jus’ breathe an’ lemme hold ye, laddie. Daddy’s got ye an’ I’m gonnae help my Juicyboy with _everything_ he needs, just as I help Papi. We’ll talk, ye and me, as soon as ye’re breathing a lil’ easier. I’m not going anywhere an’ there’s no hurry.”  
“Gotta work…”  
“Shh, Juicyboy, shh… Trust Daddy, alright? I have a plan an’ we’ll talk about it once ye’re a wee bit more awake, so ye know exactly how we’re gonnae handle this. Jus’ know tha’ ye don’ have to worry ‘bout yer work ‘cause ye’re gonnae call in sick an’ ye’re not going home for at least two weeks. _At least._ ”  
“That’s not our… agreement, Daddy.”  
“Would ye prefer tha’ I contact the psychiatric emergency?”  
“What? No! You can’t do that!”  
“Ye’re lucky ye’re in no condition for another spanking, lil’ one, ‘cause that’s right out defiance. An’ for yer information, Juicyboy, we do have a clause in our agreement tha’ allows me an’ Papi to step in if ye’re unable to look after yerself due to illness or injury.”  
“But… I’m just tired, Daddy…”  
  
The defiance he’d automatically shown, was unusually easy to stop now, because he did remember that particular clause which he’d always thought would only be used if things got a bit out of hand during sex or if he had some kind of bike accident and broke a leg or something. He bit his lip, worrying it and Daddy stroke a thumb over his mouth.  
  
“Don’ do that, lil’ one. Ye’re only making it sore.”  
  
He stopped immediately, not wanting to be more disobedient and instead curled into the crook of Daddy’s neck, pulling the scent of his protective lover into his nose.    
  
“My whole body feels weird, Daddy… M’ too heavy…”  
“Oh, lovey, tha’s why ye’re so worried?”  
  
Juice nodded and Daddy rocked him again. Juice let out a sob.  
  
“I’m wet too… _Hate_ this diaper thing, Daddy… Feel so weak an’… pathetic.”  
“Ye did ask for it, remember?”  
“Yeah, but it’s so…”  
“Embarressing?”  
“Yeah… I’ve never had a problem with that before.”  
“Yer bladder?”  
“Uh-huh.”  
“Little darlin’, lots of grown-ups who aren’t otherwise incontinent, are forced to use nappies at one point or another due to a temporary illness. An’ jus’ think about women who’ve been in labor. A lot of them are incontinent for a while afterwards an’ when they heal properly, it goes away.”  
“That would be comforting, Daddy, if I had a uterus.”  
  
Daddy smiled and kissed his hair.  
  
“Point is, lil’ one, tha’ since ye’ve been so stressed out, it may not be that strange if yer body is reacting like this for a while. I’m sure it’ll pass as soon as ye’ve had a chance to wind down properly an’ relax more. The fact tha’ yer body feels so heavy righ’ now, is a warning sign if ever there was one, Juicyboy.”  
“How so, Daddy?”  
“Well, from a medical point of view, how does two or three weeks with poor sleep, lots of work, no appetite, constipation an’ stomach ache sound like to ye?”  
“Not good, Daddy.”  
“Not good at all, lil’ one. Ye’re not coping well at the moment an’ while yer body is screaming for help, ye don’ seem to hear it. Something has caught ye up in this very downward spiral an’ ye’re clearly not able to get out on yer own. How do ye think ye’d be able to work, when ye’re so tired ye cannae stand?”  
  
Juice sighed.  
  
“Guess I’m not…”  
“Aye, ye guess right, lovey. An’ please, don’ worry ‘bout the nappies anymore, ‘cause one day yer Papi will have to change mine or I his, when we’re old an’ cannae take care o’ ourselves.”  
“No, you wont, Daddy.”  
“No?”  
“Cause I’ll help you to the bathroom.”  
  
Daddy chuckled.  
  
“My sweet, sweet lad… Wha’ in the world would we do without ye?”  
“Have more sparetime?”  
“Ye’re not work or an inconvenience, Juice. Jus’ a very unsteady lad who needs his Daddies more than ever, an’ right now also a fresh nappy.”


	22. Filip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daddy handles a problem with lip biting, Juice sulks and Papi's got some major mama bear tendencies :)

Wearing a nappy was difficult enough as it was for his poor lad, Filip thought. Getting it changed by his lover was probably hell for him and Filip made sure to do it as quickly as possible but still without rushing. Making Juice feel like it was a disgusting matter his Daddy just wanted to get over with, was the last thing he needed right now.  
  
Filip had done his share of this while working in the hospital and knew how important it was with good hygiene – and respect. Juice huffed a bit as he was cleaned, but the good boy didn’t protest and as far as Filip concerned, he had every right to sulk right now. He got the fresh nappy on and Filip finished by kissing his forehead.  
  
“Good boy. I know how much ye hate this.”  
“When do you think I wont need them anymore, Daddy?”  
“Tha’ depends, laddie. As long as ye can relax an’ rest properly, I cannae imagine ye’ll need’em for tha’ long. But trust me, it’ll get much easier an’ be over quicker, if ye can let us help ye.”  
“I am, Daddy.”  
“I mean mentally. Ye need to try an’ let those feelings of shame an’ guilt go, sweet lad. I know that doesn’t happen over night, but in time I hope ye’ll be able to realise tha’ ye’re entitled to love, help an’ support with _everything_ , Juicy. Tha’s wha’ me an’ Papi want for ye, lil’ one, ‘cause we love ye so much.”  
  
Juice swallowed, still so worried and his eyes were tired and hollow.  
  
“I’m staying with you then? For a while…?”  
“Aye, darlin’, ye are. For as long as ye need. Or do ye wannae stop our agreement?”  
“N-no, Daddy.”  
“Shh, lil’ one, don’ get all riled up again. Ye _really_ think anyone can stop yer Papi from looking after his baby boy right now, without ending up in a body bag?”  
  
Filip made sure to raise his eyebrows and smirk, which worked this time too. Juice smiled, even if it was a small one and he shook his head.  
  
“No, Daddy.”  
“Ye’re learning, lovey. Papi is having a shower now an’ will be down soon to give ye a good cuddle while Daddy goes to the store. Is there anyhting ye need, lil’ one?”  
“No thanks, Daddy.”  
“How’s yer tummy?”  
“Still sore.”  
“As I suspected. Papi has a diet plan for ye, though, an’ I’m sure ye’ll get better soon. Remember, laddie, ye’re _not_ disgusting or naughty or stupid or weak or whatever other shite tha’ self-hating part o’ yer brain might tell ye. Me an’ Papi love ye to bits, Juicy, an’ we’re gonnae get ye back on yer feet, I promise. No shame, alright? Alright, lad?”  
“Okay, Daddy. I’ll try.”  
“Tha’s all anyone could ask for, lil’ one. Ye’re doin’ tha’ thing with yer lip again, lovey.”  
“Sorry, Daddy. Don’t really notice it.”  
“S’gonnae get swollen, Juicy. Maybe ye should… wait, I know.”  
  
They’d kept it for years, for some reason, never opened it so it was all new. After throwing the used nappy away, Filip went to the cabinet where he kept the paddles and yes, on one of the shelves, there was an unopened package with something Juice would find really embarressing, but Filip wouldn’t allow him to chew his lip all swollen. He returned to the couch and, as expected, Juice looked almost horrified when he saw the item.  
  
“Daddy, please no… I’m not… Really Daddy, you can’t seriously expect me to…”  
“Ye’re chewing yer lip, Juicy, an’ I cannae allow tha’.”  
  
He used his stearn voice, not to scare the boy but to soothe the shame by taking away the option from him. Filip opened the packaged, rinsed with cold water from Juice’s glass and held the pacifier out. The lad looked so embarressed and Filip popped the pacifier in his mouth.  
  
“There. Tha’ should save yer poor mouth from getting all chewed up. No shame, lil’ one. Give it a try an’ jus’ as with the nappies, I’m certain ye wont need it for tha’ long.”  
  
His lad didn’t answer, but made the sweetest scowl and he’d already started sucking as he curled up and turned his eyes away in a very demonstrative manner. Filip could hardly contain a smile. His lil’ one could refuse, he _could_ veto both nappies and pacifiers from their agreement and the fact that he didn’t, even if it was clearly very embarressing for him, meant that those items on some level and in some specific moments, actually helped.  
  
Filip patted his cheek and received a huff that clearly meant the lad was pissed off. Luckily, the sounds of steps in stairs meant Ronea was on his way and Filip went out to the hallway, stopping his husband and lowering his voice.  
  
“Don’ get too happy when ye see yer cub, mama bear.”  
“What now, Filip?”  
“He was chewing his lip too much so…”  
“Yes?”  
  
Ronea looked very much like a mama bear right now, fiercly determined to get to his cub and his non-existant eyebrows were up his still wet hairline.  
  
“What have you done, Mr. Telford?”  
“Got’im a pacifier…”  
“You didn’t!”  
  
As Filip had expected, his husband seemed more in awe than mad and Filip chuckled.  
  
“As I said, don’ get too happy about it. Yer cub isn’t the least amused, he was already mad ‘bout the nappy, but I couldna let’im chew up his mouth.”  
“You’re a very good Daddy, Mr. Telford. Now, get to the store before your baby boy decides he can do with just Papi from now on. Here’s the list.”  
  
Filip took it and gave his husband an arch look.  
  
“God, ye’re cute when ye get bossy…”  
“Is that so? How cute would I look with a chastity belt _I_ hold the key to? You’ve always been so proud of my patience, husband…”  
  
That was a real threat and, if Filip was completely honest, a well-deserved one. Filip took the list and then pressed a kiss on Ronea’s lips.  
  
“I’m mostly proud o’ yer patience with me, lovey.”  
“Me too, baby.”


	23. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papi steps up :)

Papi’s cuddles were the best and Juice didn’t even feel bad about putting Daddy’s just a step beneath. Comparing them was pretty pointless, of course, since both men fulfilled different needs, but Papi just had a way with cuddling that seemed like he was made for it. Papi’s hair was a little wet from he shower and he smelled so good, Juice had to nuzzle him. Papi smiled.  
  
“Did I miss a spot, baby boy?”  
“You smell nice, Papi. Missed your scent…”  
“Aww, sweetheart… I missed yours as well. Missed my baby boy so, so much… Papi is so happy you’re with us again.”  
  
Juice took out the pacifier.  
  
“How… how long can I stay with you, Papi?”  
“For as long as you need, baby boy. If it’s a week or six months or ten years… Don’t think of time so much, sweetheart. We _want_ you here with us, my little love.”  
“What if you and Daddy need to… be alone, Papi?”  
“Then we’ll have some time alone when you’re snuggled up and sound asleep in our bed, Juice. Baby boys who’re this tired, get early bedtime.”  
  
That was reassuring, but it wasn’t enough to ease Juice’s worry and he clutched Papi’s grey cardigan, sucking on the pacifier again, a little more intense and Papi stroke his hair.  
  
“Are you so stressed out, Juicy? C’mon, my little cub, tell Papi what’s worrying you?”  
“I… I’m gonna be… gonna be in the way, Papi…”  
”For us? No-no-no, sweetheart, you stop that thought right now, because it aint true. Not one bit. You have any idea how much I’ve missed you, Juice? How much Daddy missed you? Been so worried for you, and longed for you as well.”  
“Daddy said Juice will stay for a while…”  
  
Speaking like a little kid, sucking on that damn thing… Juice really felt like _little_ right now and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it, because all he could think of right now, was that Papi held him again on the big couch and how he needed to know for how long he’d be allowed the comfort.  
  
“What did Daddy say, baby boy?”  
“That... Juicy can stay for… as long as Juciy needs?”  
“And what Daddy says goes, my little love. Tomorrow you’ll call in sick and both Papi and Daddy will look after you.”  
“D-doesn’t Daddy have to work?”  
“When his lil’ one feels unwell, Daddy will take a day off to make sure things are settling. For example, taking you to the doctor.”  
“The doctor?”  
“Mhm. You’ll need a doctor’s note for sick leave and we also gotta make sure you have everything you need in terms of clothes and meds and stuff.”  
“My computor.”  
“Is that really a good idea, baby boy?”  
“Well… I’ll need it for bills and stuff, Papi.”  
“Ah, yes, of course. But I can’t imagine your Daddy would like you to work for a while and I certainly don’t. You need to relax, or you could end up really ill for a long time, Juice.”  
“Uhm… M-maybe you could keep it… ‘way from me for a few days?”  
“ _Good boy._ Now you’re thinking like the smart boy Papi knows you are.”  
  
The praise had an immediate soothing effect. Getting to hear he’d thought right about this was a much needed encouragement right now, along with the ensurance that he wasn’t in the way. That Daddy and Papi had made a decision and he would have to obey if he wanted to be with them. Papi rocked him slowly.  
  
“Don’t worry, sweet boy. Papi and Daddy will help you get better again. With your tummy, your lip chewing and all that nasty tension you’re carrying around. You’ll be with home with Papi this week and tomorrow morning, Daddy will take you to the doctor.”  
“Which doctor, Papi?”  
“You don’t have a doctor?”  
“Nuh-uh, Papi. Juice doesn’t like doctors.”  
“Oh well, then Papi’s gotta make a call to Dr. Case. She’s our family physician, very nice and discrete.”  
“Dr. Case?”  
“Wendy Case, a member of our community although we don’t interract privately, of course. I’ll give her a call to see if she could squeeze in an appointment for our baby boy.”  
“Y-you’re not gonna call me that when you talk to her, right, Papi? B-baby boy?”  
“Of course not, sweetheart. But you really do need a doctor’s note for sick leave and unless you want Daddy to take you to your local health care centre and hope for the best, this is the only option.”  
  
Juice shivered by the thought of trying to get an appointment on his own and decided to not argue with Papi. He nodded and nuzzled close again, needing the comfort so badly he could hardly stand a moment outside Papi’s arms.  
  
“Sorry, Papi…”  
“For what, baby boy?”  
“Being so needy and clingy…”  
“Sweetheart, you’re in pretty bad shape both physically and mentally. You’re allowed to be, as you say, needy and clingy, because you _do_ need to cling onto your Papi and he’s right here for you. Everything’s gonna be alright, Juice, I promise. No shame, sweet darling. S’it alright if I call Dr. Case or would you prefer going to your health care centre with Daddy?”  
“Can’t… make a decision, Papi. I really can’t…”  
  
His throat had tightened now, his face tensing and although he tried to stop it, there soon were tears in his eyes and he sobbed into the crook of Papi’s neck. Everything outside the comfort of his Daddies, was just darkness and chaos right now. Papi stroke his shoulders.  
  
“Would it be easier for you, if Papi and Daddy made _all_ the decisions for you, for a time?”  
“Y-yes, Papi. Feels so wrong asking for it, but…”  
  
He swallowed hard, crying for real now.  
  
“I’m just so _tired_ , Papi. Can’t think properly, everything jus’ mix up and then I make bad decisions and it gets even worse. I need help…”  
“Shh, baby boy, shh… Papi’s got you. I’m _really_ proud of you for saying how you feel. I know it’s one of the most difficult things for you, to admit out loud when you’re unable to function properly on your own. Daddy will be so proud too, when I tell him you admitted that.”  
  
Papi _sounded_ proud and he kissed Juice’s neck.  
  
“I’m a fulltime homemaker, baby boy, and most of the time I actually love it, but it can get a bit lonely and monotonous too, especially after more than a week in a sickbed. Having you here for a while wouldn’t be a nuisance to me, but a help and pleasant change. You’d help _me_ to feel useful and calm again, if you’d allow me to take care my baby boy.”  
“What about Daddy? If he’s working all day and then comes home to me being whiny and clingy…”  
“Stop right there, baby boy, and be very grateful your Papi has vetoed spankings for at least a week. We _love you_ , Juicy and so help me God, if I have to keep you in diapers until you’re well enough to go back to work to make you realise that, I will.”


	24. Ronea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: read the tags CAREFULLY and be aware this story is marked explicit. This is a painful chapter throwing the daddies into Ronea's past.

“Smoothies and porridge… Lots of soup, of course…”  
“For us too, lovey? He’s asleep, by the way?”  
“I don’ wanna make him feel excluded, Filip. He’s so anxious as it is and I think you’ll survive some extra healthy diet at home. You can get your bacon and burgers at work. And yeah, he’s sleeping.”  
“Good. How about beer an’ scotch?”  
“I’d prefer if you didn’t have any in front of Juice right now.”  
“Why?”  
  
Ronea patiently put down his pencil on the notepad he used for meal planning, looking at his right now plain stupid husband.  
  
“Because he gulped down half a bottle of Baileys while binging on garbage, trying to choke his anxiety and I don’t want _any_ food or drink around that’s assoicated with that until he’s more stable. No chips or deepfried food, coffee, sweets or ice cream either. Just nutritious, tummy friendly food that’s easy to eat while not making him feel secluded or on view. We can have coffee, but I strongly suggest we’re not making a big deal about it.”  
“Yes, ma’m.”  
  
His husband nodded, clearly not intending to intervene now that he had a good reason for a potentially boring menu. Ronea kept writing, not caring about the “ma’m” thing as he looked at the receipt from Filip’s shopping trip.  
  
“Potatos… I’ll make mash… soft-boiled veggies, lots of nuts and seeds, fresh fruits, white rice, veggie soup, soy yoghurt… and fish, of course. Oh, and he’ll need dried and frozen fruits as well. I’d really appreciate if you could stick to this with us, baby, and I promise to serve all your favourites again once Juice feels better.”  
“Our lil’ one’s health comes first, lovey. I wont ruin yer work, I promise, ‘cause this is yer expertise an’ I gladly let ye guide me in this. How ‘bout yer daily activities? Ye know I wont allow ye to work too hard yet.”  
“I know, baby, and I have no intention to. Wont be helping anyone if I exhaust myself and end up with round two of the flu. Don’t worry, I’ll keep the household work to a minimum and I promise  to ask you for help whenever I need.”  
  
Filip smiled and gave him a kiss on the hair.  
  
“Ye’re my rock, lovey.”  
“And you’re mine. How about _his_ daily activities, baby? He’s gonna get crazy if he’s not occupied with something…”  
“Well, ye’re not going to the gym for another week, right?”  
“No, I haven’t planned on it.”  
“How about ye’re doing some o’ that yoga stuff ye did when ye worked? Dinnae tha’ help out pretty good with stress?”  
“Yeah. You remember that?”  
“Course I do. Ye think he’d be willing to try it?”  
  
Ronea scratched his hair.  
  
“Maybe when he’s a bit more steady. If he doesn’t decide to stop our agreement…”  
“I seriously doubt tha’, baby. He’s been a Papi cling-on since he got here.Ye’re sure ye can handle it?”  
  
Ronea simply gave Filip a _look_ and his Scottish man put his hands up.  
  
“Alright, alright… Jus’ asking, lovey. I know ye can get a bit overly enthusiastic an’ I shouldna have to remind ye tha’ I can step in if I think ye’re exhausting yerself.”  
  
His husband wasn’t scolding or warning, really, just calmly reminding of their rules and Ronea sighed, nodding.  
  
“I know, baby, and you know that’s how I want it, even if I get bossy like a Southern mama sometimes.”  
“What’s irking ye then, darlin’?”  
  
When Filip used that soft, low voice, it was usually ten times more effective than any scolding and unfortunately, it could make Ronea cry if he was feeling the least anxious or fragile. Using that voice when Ronea was taking a little too much control, meant that his husband _knew_ there was a problem of some sort and that the control was a sign of worry, not rule breaking or disrespect.  
  
Ronea felt his husband’s strong arms around him.  
  
“Are ye worried tha’ ye wont give Juice the help he needs, lovey?”  
“Yeah…”  
“An’ on top of it, I’ve been all over yer work, making ye feel even more like ye’re not contributing an’ I know tha’ makes ye feel powerless an’ needless, but tha’s not even remotely true, darlin’. I’ve lived on yer frozen meals for more than a week now an’ the occasional takeouts, an’ I’ve gotta tell ye, I have no idea how to operate tha’ oven an’ don’ even get me started on the laundry, our household budget an’ the garden. I cannae fill yer shoes, Ronea, anymore than ye can fill mine.”  
  
He got a beardy kiss on his neck and made a small sob.  
  
“Sometimes I think you know me too well, Filip…”  
“Tha’s _my_ job, darlin’. Knowing ye too well an’ do wha’s best for ye. Ye called Wendy Case?”  
“Yeah… She has a gap tomorrow at nine thirty. Should I take him, or…?”  
“No, lovey, I’ll take him. Ye better take out yer frustration on the kitchen, rather than sitting in a waiting room with coughing kids an’ soccer maws.”  
“You’re right, baby. I’m just… God, I just feel so powerless and messy and…”  
“Hey, now… Ronea, please, try an’ let go jus’ a lil’ bit, aye? Tonight, I’m drawing ye a nice bath, give ye a backrub and when our lil’ one is asleep… if ye’re a good boy an’ not get yerself all worked up, I’ll give ye something else I know ye need…”  
“Not another spanking, I hope?”  
“Was thinking more of a blowjob an’ something green…”  
  
Ronea chuckled, only to stop abruptly when he felt Filip’s hand, who’d slipped under his shirt, accidently tracing down one of his old scars.  
  
“Baby…”  
  
The touch disappeared immedately.  
  
“Jesus, darlin’, I’m sorry, I…”  
  
Filip’s voice had dropped to regret, which meant he knew he’d fucked up. The scar never bothered Ronea unless it was touched in way that followed the line and Filip hadn’t made that mistake in years. It went on the diagonal, from his right shoulder, down to his left hip and although only partly uneven and mostly smoothed out like a pale pen mark, the memory almost 25 years old, it still hurt to be reminded.  
  
It was one of those that, although healed, would always leave a mark. Juice had commented it, not specifically that one, but the fact that his Papi’s back and arms had lots of old scars.  
  
The sob that had been stopped earlier, was now blossoming in full. His husband didn’t hold him, but kneeled instead, grabbing his hands, nuzzling them and whispering.  
  
“Ronea, love, I’m so sorry… Don’ know wha’ I was thinking, please forgive me, darlin’… Yer husband’s a thoughtless idiot sometimes…”  
  
And also his savior. Ronea cried helplessly, reminded of a time when these warm, steady hands weren’t holding him. A time before he knew true kindness. Nights of muffling sounds of pain and fear not to wake up the man holding him like a vice in his sleep, heavy from drugs and rubbing against his sore back and aching hole. How he, once he’d fallen into an unnerving sleep and woke up, could feel the pad of a finger tracing down a stinging scar, admiring it’s work.  
  
That particular one had been caused by an old-fashioned driving whip in leather. Other scars from the same item had healed, but this one was way too deep. The force of the strike had made Ronea loose all power in his body and hang like a ragdoll in the cuffs, stress and shock causing a bleeding nose and pukes in one end, while he was pissing and shitting himself in the other. He’d still been sore from a fuck with far too little lube and a chokehold that left bruises.  
  
Aaron had been high that night, on speed and power, and Ronea had been hurt. Badly. He’d been ridiculed, humiliated, wounded. No comfort, no care, no reassuring words of love and concearn what so ever. When the cuffs were unlocked, he’d not been received in loving arms, his tormented body had just fallen where it stood, down into his own excrements. His ears had been ringing, pain burning everywhere and the only words were ones of disgust, disappointment, scorn and hatred.  
  
He’d been left there, naked, bruised, shitty and bleeding, barely able to breathe and Aaron’s way of helping was to squirt out cleaning soap over his shaking form, before throwing buckets of cold water on him. He’d then left to buy smokes and had he not forgotten his wallet, being forced to return and see the cramps, Ronea’s shock would’ve been fatal.  
  
The scar reminded of a loss of power that could’ve killed him. How close it was, how the control hadn’t been given, but taken and why standing cuffs and crops were absolutely forbidden in this house. Now he could hear the soft, loving words from his husband slowly breaking through the flashback, asking to hold him and Ronea leaned into the waiting arms, shaking and whimpering.  
  
“I’m so sorry, lovey… Ye’re not with him anymore, ye’re safe. He cannae hurt ye, darlin’, s’just a bad memory… I’m here, Ronea, nothing can harm ye… ”  
  
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had one of these really bad flashbacks, only that it had been years ago, and it was a very painful reliving. Filip held him on the floor now, not touching the scar but simply hugging him firm and careful.  
  
“He cannae hurt ye anymore, baby. Ye had a flashback yer idiotic husband managed to provoke without thinking. Aaron’s six feet under, we went to see his grave, remember?”  
  
They had. Not to pay their respect, but for Ronea to make sure the bastard was really dead and gone. He’d needed to see the name on the stone, read the obituary in the paper and even pass Aaron’s old apartment to see the changed nameplate. Find evidence that the drugs, in fact, had won. It didn’t feel like justice, in fact Ronea had mourned the bastard for a while and Filip had accepted that, told him that it wasn’t strange or unusual, that he was allowed to feel whatever it was he felt.  
  
They’d went to the graveyard late at nigth, well-masked, and Ronea had kicked the stone, destroyed the flowers there and screamed out his hatred, his sorrow and the pain the bastard had caused him, until Filip had stepped in to make sure no one heard or saw them. Then he’d pissed on the grave himself and before leaving, Ronea had taken his husband’s half finished smoke and lit the flowers on fire.  
  
It had been more cleansing than he’d expected.  
  
Ronea whimpered in his husband’s arms, the memory fading and the living nightmare forced away again. Filip was safe, he was his anchor, his lifeline and homeport. His arms were gentle, patient and kind. His hands didn’t give scars, they healed them. He never _took_ , he took care. He’d loved Ronea at his darkest, held him at his lowest and never dropped him, would never leave him on the hard ground and if there was no soft layer near, Filip would be that softness himself, using his own body as protection.  
  
“Ye can _be_ weak with me, lovey. Ye can loose control an’ I’ll be right here… Doesn’t mean ye _are_ weak, Ronea. Ye’re the strongest person I’ve ever known, ye’re my hero, baby. Ye’re saving me every day, ye know, by jus’ bein’ ye. Ye’re the best Papi to our lil’ one an’ I can see how much he loves ye, how he adores his Papi… I’m keeping ye both safe, but ye’re keeping _us_ safe too. Ye’re the glue, darlin’, an’ I know tha’ ye always raise again no matter what, an’ I’m _always_ here to support ye in every way I can.”  
  
He was still crying, but calmly now. Filip always made him calm and Ronea relaxed again, letting himself become heavy and limp in his embrace. The loving hands now stroke his chest and stomach. Ronea was in good health but no longer as lean and fit as when he was younger and neither was Filip. They both had love handles and extra padding, slightly creeping hairlines and skin that sagged in places. It didn’t matter, none of it mattered to them. The self-consciousness from their youth had long since been replaced with the kind of slightly depressing but also relieving acceptance of aging that in the end only made them more beautiful to each other. Their scars were in different places and had different causes but they were part of their history and while they both would’ve loved to get rid of both Glasgow smiles and whipping marks, they’d never seen the other one’s wounds as ugly or repulsive.  
  
They remained on the floor, the rest of the world somehow shut off, even their little one who was sleeping. There were only the two of them now, only Ronea and Filip and nothing and noone else mattered. Filip nuzzled his neck.  
  
“How are ye feeling now, baby?”  
“Better. Tired, but… I’m myself again, Filip. Don’t think I’m up for massage or sex, though.”  
“Me neither, lovey. How about ye take a shower an’ I make us some tea? We’ll finish the planning an’ then we could watch a movie or something?”  
  
Ronea nodded, wiping his face.  
  
“Some escapism sounds nice…”  
“Figure ye don’ wannae talk ‘bout it?”  
“Not really. Nothing new, you know…”  
“No, it’s not…”  
  
There really wasn’t anything to solve or put words into. They’d already done it so many times for over twenty years, sometimes the only thing Ronea needed afterwards, was to cuddle up in the safety of his husband’s arms and give in to exhaustion. Loved and held through everything.


	25. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some truths are spilled, Daddy has a little breakdown and without realising it, Juice comes to the rescue. TW: read the tags.

Juice took another tentative sip of the green tea, glancing through the window at Papi who was laying in the hammock on the backporch with his shades on and a knitted blanket over his long legs. It looked like he was asleep and like he needed to be alone. Daddy came to stand beside Juice, putting an arm around his shoulders.  
  
“Ye’re worried about Papi, laddie?”  
“A bit, Daddy. He looks… so pale.”  
“An’ tha’ says something…”  
  
Daddy made a small smile that wasn’t happy. He looked tired too.  
  
“Ye don’ have to worry ‘bout Papi, Juicy. He’s allowed me to tell ye a wee bit more ‘bout his background… Before we met.”  
“Oh.”  
“If ye wannae know, of course.”  
“I do, Daddy.”  
  
Juice didn’t hesitate. He’d been their lover for more than half a year now and although he knew Papi’s scars were all old and from another time, one before he’d married Daddy, it sometimes worried Juice that someone had dared to hurt his Papi. He wasn’t afraid or judgemental of others scars, only his own.  
  
Daddy stroke Juice’s cheek.   
  
“Ye’re such a sweet, kind lad, Juicy. Not everyone can hear someone else’s story without judging, but in the short time I’ve known ye, I’ve become certain ye can. Lets have a seat. Wannae have yer head in my lap?”  
“Yes, please, Daddy.”  
  
They walked over to the big, soft couch and Juice snuggled down in Daddy’s lap, feeling the gentle hands scratching his scalp a bit.  
  
“First of all, ye need to know tha’ this aint something new, laddie. Ye’ve just never seen it yerself before. T’is not dangerous or unmanagable an’ ye’re not responsible for it in any way. Ye’re not required or even allowed to help with this, so if ye’re feeling like ye should do something to help, tha’s jus’ a feeling, Juicy. Ye understand?”  
“I… think so, Daddy.”  
”Ye’ve gotta see this as… well, bikes.”  
”Bikes?”  
”Aye. Ye an’ I are both more than good with bikes an’ especially our own. We’d never allow anyone who doesn’t know our babies to handle’em, right?”  
“No, Daddy.”  
“An’ why’s tha’?”  
“Cause they don’ know how we’ve customized’em.”  
“Exactly. Now, ye realise I’m not actually comparing yer Papi to a bike, lovey, but it’s still a wee bit the same principle. I know ye love us an’ tha’ ye’re close to Papi in yer own way, jus’ as ye an’ me. I know yer instinct is to help an’, unfortunately, also assume ye’re somehow part of the problem.”  
“I know I’m not, Daddy.”  
“Aye, but yer knowledge an’ yer first reaction don’t always sync up, do they, lil’ one?”  
“No, Daddy.”  
  
Daddy kept petting him slowly and Juice pulled in the scent of motor oil and tobacco, soothing in another way than Papi’s.  
  
“Well, the bike comparison means tha’ since I know Papi better than anyone, I’m very careful ‘bout who’s helping him with what.”  
“Cause people can do more damage if they don’t know how to handle him.”  
“Aye. Hence the bike comparison. Ye see, more than twenty years ago, before I met yer Papi, he was in another relationship. He was already in the scene, jus’ like me, but his then boyfriend was… well…”  
“A fucking asshole?”  
“Aye… Could think o’ a few more names for tha’ scumbag, fucking arsehole being one o’ them. Anyway… This wont be a pretty story, laddie.”  
“I know, Daddy. I can handle it.”  
  
Daddy’s gaze was warm and he made that small, sad smile again.  
  
“Ye remind a lot o’ yer Papi, ye know tha’? Ye’re both so much stronger than ye know… Papi was in a… _very_ bad relationship for almost four years before we met. He was only seventeen when it started an’ his maw and da weren’t wha’ ye’d call supportive o’ their only son’s orientation. An’ as ye know, most scumbags are pretty good at pretending they’re decent people at first.”  
  
Juice just nodded. He knew. He knew that all too well. Daddy took his hand.  
  
”Ye’ve seen Papi’s scars, Juicy. On his arms an’ chest… an’ his back. Some o’ them are self-inflicted but those on his back… Have ye ever touched them, lovey?”  
“Just once, ligthtly. When we were bathing.”  
“Ah… An’ I know ye dinnae touch’em by trailing yer fingers along’em.”  
“Papi told you?”  
“No, but if ye’d accidently touched’em like tha’, yer Papi probably would’ve had a bad reaction, which is why it was a stupid thing we never told ye not to touch like tha’. S’ pure luck ye didn’t.”  
“It… triggers something? Right, Daddy?”  
“Aye, a very painful memory.”  
  
Daddy sighed.  
  
“The fucking arsehole who hurt him... Ye know tha’ safety an’ consent is everything, lovey. When ye’re into BDSM, tha’s the key an’ without it, t’is not good or healthy anymore. The arsehole in question, Aaron, was… He… He did a lot o’ awful shite towards yer Papi an’ one o’ the worst things, the memory I accidently triggered earlier, was when he cuffed Papi for hours…”  
“Hours?”  
“Aye… He cuffed Papi to the roof an’ whipped him really hard, had’im pukin’ an’ pissing himself by the end… An’ then…”  
  
Daddy took a deep breath, swallowing.  
  
“Then he… raped him. He… liked to touch the scars afterwards… After he’d…”  
  
Juice could only stare at him, the horror making him unable to speak and Daddy stroke his hair.  
  
“Papi still wont call it tha’. Not unless ye make’im an’ when he’s havin’ a flashback, which he had now, ye cannae use tha’ word, ‘cause it upsets him so badly it’ll only make things worse.”  
  
Daddy blinked and Juice saw there were tears in his eyes.  
  
“Ye see, laddie… Earlier today as I stroke his back, I managed to trail a finger along one of his scars, which is the one thing I know I must _never_ do an’ I have no idea what I was thinkin’ to make such an awful error. I, of all people, should know better.”  
“What happened, Daddy?”  
“Yer Papi had a flashback. Fortunately, it wasn’t one o’ the worst, but the fact tha’ he had one at all due to something as stupid as me touching him in a way I know I never should, is bad enough.”  
“Holy shit…”  
“Aye, tha’s one expression for it, lil’ one.”  
  
Daddy sniffled a bit and looked at Juice.  
  
“I have to say, ye don’ seem too spooked ‘bout this, lad.”  
“Been raped too, Daddy.”  
  
Juice didn’t know where the words came from or how he managed to say them, just like that. He didn’t feel anything in particular either, except for a small surprise at how easily the old, well-hidden truth came out.  
  
“Juicy…”  
  
Daddy sounded like his heart had been ripped apart and Juice hugged and nuzzled him, feeling strangely calm.  
  
“Please, Daddy, don’t be sad. Was a long time ago an’ Juice is fine now. Juice has got his Daddies, right? And Papi’s got Daddy and Juice.”  
“Aye… Aye, my boy, we have. Mary, Mother o’ Christ, both ma lads…”  
“But Juice’s alright now, Daddy. Juice isn’t hurt anymore. ‘M not broken, Daddy.”  
  
What he meant was, what had happened to him eight years ago had nothing to do with this breakdown – or his kinks. Juice was well aware of his own insecurity, but he’d been into all of the things he shared with his Daddies, long before that still unknown scumbag spiked his drink and pretended to not hear his protests. The longing for belonging was way more scary for him, since eighteen years in the foster care system hadn’t provided a family, only the skills of putting up a brave face and pretend he had everything under control.  
  
As far as Juice concerned, if he had daddy issues, then his mommy, siblings and fucking grandparent issues were just a big. He’d never had a family, no one had ever chosen him in the end. With Papi and Daddy, at least he could _play_ belonging. It was safer, mutual and had clear rules. For a couple of days at the time, he had a sliver of the safety, love and care he’d so desperately longed for all his life, and giving voice to _that_ need, was way more threatening in Juice’s mind, than mentioning a rape.  
  
Daddy was still sniffling, holding him so tight it felt like he could press Juice into his body, forming him to a physical part of him. Juice leaned on his shoulder, slowly stroking his back.  
  
“Daddy?”  
“Aye, lovey?”  
”W-was it wrong of me to not tell you before? Did I… break our contract?”  
“No… Nonono, lil’ one. Daddy’s just… so sad ’bout all the horrors both his lads have gone through an’ tha’ he wasn’t there to stop it.”  
“How could you have, Daddy? Didn’t know each other back then.”  
“I know, lovey, I don’ blame myself or bein’ unreasonable, I’m jus’… I’ve loved yer Papi the longest, but I love ye jus’ as much, Juicy. To think tha’ my lil’ one’s been tha’ hurt jus’ breaks Daddy’s heart.”  
“Don’t want that, Daddy.”  
“Well, ye try an’ stop an old Scottish heart from feelin’, lad, an’ ye’re up for a more impossible task than keeping yer Papi outta the kitchen.”  
“Sorry for making you feel bad, Daddy.”  
“Hey, nonono, Juicyboy… Look at me, lad.”  
  
Daddy released him just enough so they could face each other but still held his shoulders. His scarred cheeks were teary but there was just the hint of a smile on his lips, sad as it was.  
  
“I wont pretend I understand how it was for ye, going through tha’ evil shite, but I understand tha’ ye’ve given something of yerself now tha’s very hard to share with anyone. Ye’re _not_ making me feel bad, sweet darlin’, ye’re making me proud an’ grateful tha’ ye considered me possible to share this with. Ye’re a brave lad, Juicy, an’ I love ye.”  
“Love you too, Daddy. S’it okay if we don’t talk anymore of this right now? Juicy’s tired.”  
  
Daddy pulled him close again, kissing his hair.  
  
“Of course, lil’ one.”  
“Can Juicy have the pacifier, Daddy?”  
“I’ll get if for ye.”  
“Thank you, Daddy.”  
  
A little while later, Juice was sucking on his pacifier, head in Daddy’s lap and as the loving hands stroke his hair and shoulders, he slowly dozed off, for a moment feeling like nothing could hurt him ever again.


	26. Filip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filip muses about the past, the now and the future, with his lil' one sleeping on his lap.

_Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs…_  
  
Their wedding had been simple, not to mention illegal at the time. It would take another eight years before they could make their official vows and register as married on the paper as well. They’d used the same words, both in choise of readings and their vows as the first time, feeling like it was more of a vow renewal and, not to mention, a chance to celebrate their life together and get the same legal rights as any other married couple.  
  
Filip remembered the day Ronea had tattooed in their vows just as vivid as their first and second wedding. It had been so important for both of them, that Filip’s right to the last word in all things, didn’t intrude on Ronea’s right to his own body and person. At first, while they were engaged, Ronea had had a very difficult time to understand how Filip was thinking and where exactly the lines were drawn. While most couples spent their wedding preparations on deciding clothes, food, guest lists and music, Filip and Ronea had defined the exact boundaries of their life together.  
  
Ronea was much more stable than in the beginning, of course, but it was Filip who had to put his foot down so his husband to be didn’t give away more power than what was actually good for him. Balance was importance and the only reason Filip wanted any power over Ronea at all, was because it made his fiancé so happy. To mistake that relief for inability to be a grown man with a voice of his own, would not only have been extremely selfish and rude, but stupid as hell too.  
  
_Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres._  
  
The Bible quote spoke of all the things Filip had hoped he’d be able to give his husband and what he’d loved the most with the tattoo, was the fact that his husband hadn’t asked for permission to do it, since that wasn’t part of their agreement. That he’d relaxed so much he felt safe that Filip wouldn’t be disapprove or get angry. The rules set them both free and during their first year as married, no matter if the state didn’t acknowledge it, Ronea had simply blossomed.  
  
By putting the tattoo on his left wrist, every time he got an impuls to cut himself, Ronea managed to stop, or at least slow it down, decreasing it more and more as the time passed. The self-harming took many years to conquer completely and the tattoo helped. Patience, kindness, forgiveness, perseverance… Trust and protection. It wasn’t easy to form this kind of relationship without tipping the scale. The tattoo was, in a way, Ronea marking the hard-won realisation that his body was his own and worthy of protection and love.  
  
Right now, another tattooed man needed Filip’s love and protection. The man in question was called lad and baby boy, not in a degrading way, but loving one. The morning Ronea had woken Filip up, not with the usual soft kiss and smell of coffee, but an upset shaking, telling him that a man had passed out in his Doris Day roses, at first Filip thought it was a matter of medical unconsciousness. That’s why he’d been so angry when he saw the drunken man who’d puked over his husband’s roses. He’d been ready to call the cops right away, had Ronea not wanted to talk to the wee muppet first.  
  
There’d been nothing appealing with the muppet that day. How the hell had he even managed to stumble that far inside their garden without waking anyone up? And he looked so… pathetic. Like a kid although he was definitely closer to thirty than twenty. Filip had expected him to be aggressive, unapologetic and simply rude because honestly, that’s how lots of hungover people were and Filip could smell the muppet’s nightly adventures even without the pukes. To Filip’s great surprise the man, once he realised what he’d done, had looked deeply ashamed and anxious, especially after he’d lost another load over Ronea’s shoes.  
  
Of course, Filip had never intended to spank him. For God’s sake, it was a complete stranger who, for all Filip knew, could’ve been armed and/or mad. But the look on that anxious face had made him hesitate with the police call and instead he’d dragged him inside. The shoes and roses would probably be fine, but it was the fucking principle and Filip had planted that bush as a gift for his husband. No one threw up on a symbol of their love unpunished. When the pathetic man was sitting on their couch – which Ronea of course had draped a sheet over for protection against dirt and stuff – he’d seemed weirdly anxious about a police call. When asked, he’d shown his ID without hesitation and while Filip was lecturing him about how much those roses meant, Ronea quickly made a google search on his phone. A small nod from him was all Filip needed. At least this idiot wasn’t a searched criminal or seemed to have a shady past that made headlines.  
  
Calling the cops, somehow felt wrong, and the kid looked honestly regretful but Filip wanted to make a point.  
  
_Normally, I’d call the cops without hesitation, lad. But since ye at least have the good grace to look ashamed an’ apologise, I’ll give ye a choice. Either ye stay where ye are while I call the cops an’ ye can spend some time in a cell to sober up, or I can give ye an old-fashioned spanking an’ we forget ‘bout the cops._  
  
The man had looked shocked, clearly unsure whether Filip was joking with him or not, but a moment later, he’d swallowed, realising there was no joke.  
  
_If you’re gonna use a whip or something, I’d rather you call the cops, sir._  
  
_How about a paddle?_  
  
_You’re not calling the cops then, sir?_  
  
_Not if ye choose the paddle, lad. Twenty from my wooden paddle or the cops. Yer choice._  
  
Filip had been sure that the man who looked more like a lad, would’ve chosen the cops. After all, they were strangers and the proposal extremely weird. But he’d chosen the paddle and only hesitated a moment when he was asked to drop his pants. He’d bent over the couch as asked and even, which Filip still admired him for, scooted down his boxers as well, when told to.  
  
He’d been close to crying at the end which wasn’t a surpise since Filip hadn’t been lenient. The firm, plump arse would feel the sting for a few days, but it wouldn’t bruise. As soon as the lad had readjusted he’d turned to Ronea who stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, and then he’d not only apologised but also asked how much he owed him for the roses.  
  
A part of Filip had fallen for him right there. He’d had occasional crushes over the years, Ronea too, because that’s how the human mind worked, but although they’d engaged in some polyamorous activities, with one or even two more people involved, it had never really been their thing. But this lad, who’s name turned out to be Juan Carlos Ortiz but apparantly prefered to be called Juice, literally stumbled and fell into their orderly little life and now neither Filip nor Ronea could imagine it without him.  
  
In the last seven months, Juice had went from a hungover rose vandal to their beloved, precious and completely willingly submissive lover who meant so much more than a fun time between the sheets. Their time together was often playful, but it wasn’t a game. Life, just as for Ronea, had not been very kind towards Juice and the playfulness only possible because of the safety. The distance between them that was meant as a safety and protection of Juice’s privacy, had turned out to be loneliness, isolation and fear that in no way was intended. That wouldn’t happen again, no matter how they went on from here.  
  
Filip stroke his lil’ one’s hair, watching him sleep calmly with the pacifier still in place. If their agreement had allowed it, Filip would’ve simply demanded Juice to stay, but that kind of trust took years to build and the lad would either have said no and disappeared or reluctantly accepted it for fear of being rejected. Neither was acceptable. Filip had become rather good at reading his lad, but without Ronea’s help, it would’ve been impossible.  
  
Juice moved in his sleep, worried, and Filip shushed him gently.  
  
“Daddy’s here, lil’ one. Jus’ rest, Juicyboy, Daddy loves ye… Daddy’s got ye…”  
  
His lil’ one relaxed almost immediately from the soothing touches and words. Despite everything, Juice had an amazing trust and no one should ever be allowed to betray that or hurt him again, Filip swore to himself. He was, after all, both patient and kind, at least he tried to, and he wasn’t too proud to admit he’d understood and handled his youngest lover wrong.


	27. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more background story, from when Juice first came to know his Daddies.

On several occasions, the Social Service contacts Juice had met throughout his childhood and adolescence, had called him a pleaser, which was pretty ironic considering how displeased most of his foster parents had been with him. It had never seemed to be enough, no matter what he did. Either he was considered too shy or too shameless, too silent or too talkative, too smooth or too rude. Too eager or too detached. A child who wanted more than his fair share, even though there were never any clear rules or boarders to mark exactly how small or big said share was.  
  
Being defiant, unintentionally or knowlingly, had caused Juice a lot of heartache, but so had his efforts to please and be good. The punishment was the only dead sure thing, but the forgiveness and comfort had mostly been absent. Whenever he’d received it, he’d basked in it for as long as he possibly could. A hug, a stroke on his head, a kind word or two. Little rare treasures to be kept in the safe space of his own memory, carefully separated from all the hurt those same hands and mouths had caused prior to that small sliver of comfort.  
  
All Juan Carlos Ortiz, mostly called Juice, had wanted, was to belong. And intially he’d never thought that what had started as a game with two other men, extremely pleasant as it was, would’ve been something more than that.  
  
The first times they’d met, before anything actually happened, had been sort of a shock to his system. Daddy and Papi, who back then had went from Mr. and Mr. Telford-Tully to Filip and Ronea, had invited him for tea one Sunday, which felt very weird and British, especially since Juice never really drank tea. He’d been so nervous, changing his clothed three times before deciding to not give a more professional impression of himself than was actually truthful, and he’d brought flowers.  
  
He remembered how it felt just being greeted by Mr. Telford-Tully in the doorway, how stunningly _beautiful_ the tall, black-haired man was. He’d absolutely not appeared submissive, but rather sassy in a playful manner and the smell of freshly baked scones seemed both very weird and strangely fitting with this man who looked more like some tattooed goth rock star home from tour, than a married man knowing his way around the kitchen.  
  
The kitchen… God, the kitchen. Some of Juice’s foster homes had had big, nice kitchens too, but Mr. Telford-Tully’s easily could’ve competed with Martha Stewart’s. The man had chuckled at Juice’s big eyes, teasing him about the hangover taking a very long time to go away, if the third time in his kitchen still made Juice’s eyes wide as tea cups.  
  
It wasn’t that it looked expensive, because it definitely didn’t. There was no stainless steel surfaces, no flashy kitchen machines, wine rack or advanced cookbooks for show. It was spotless, yes, but the floor and countertops were made of reused oak boards, the table had been re-sanded and re-painted several times and the china old and miscoloured from years of daily use. In another kitchen, the old cups could’ve looked like they belonged to someone who didn’t care – or was too poor to afford care – but in Mr. Telford-Tully’s kitchen they came across as loved and treasured items.  
  
This wasn’t a kitchen to be shown, Juice realised as he was asked to sit down by the short end of the table, but one to be used. He’d never seen anyone, let alone a man, who moved around pots and pans, bake trays and jam jars as Mr. Telford-Tully and it been almost mesmerizing to watch. So much Juice had not noticed Mr. Telford entering the kitchen.  
  
_I take it ye’re not tha’ use to see a man ruling over his kitchen, Juan Carlos?_ _Sorry, I mean Juice. Welcome.  
  
Th-thank you, sir.  
  
_ He’d stuttered, both from the sight of the kitchen – and the man running it – and from embarressment. Awkwardness, really. Juice had never been intived for tea – or anything else for that matter – in someone’s home like a real guest and he’d blushed, once again completely unable to put up a hard face in front of these strangers. As if the acceptance of the spanking instead of the cops, had somehow laid him bare for them in more than a momentarily, physical way.  
  
As if they could see things within him he kept hidden, but weren’t appalled by what they saw.  
  
Mr. Telford-Tully’s freshly baked scones with butter and home-made strawberry jam, almost had Juice cry. He was very good at keeping his tears back, thank God, but the kindness and generousity these men showed him was so utterly new to him, his whole face was strained from keeping himself from bursting.  
  
They’d talked, asked him questions about his life and told him about theirs. They didn’t mention the roses or the spanking at all. In fact, it seemed as if none of the men were the least angry with him, only politely curious and keen to make him feel welcome. Juice knew he’d stared sometimes, but both men were just, each in their own way, so tantalising.  
  
It was subtle, but clear, that their marriage was more than a little different from most people’s, and that said difference had nothing to do with them being gay. Mr. Telford told Juice to just call them Filip and Ronea, that the titles weren’t really fitting now as they’d invited him as a friend, and before Juice’s lump in the throat got any bigger, the Scottish man smoothly changed subject by telling about how long they’d been married and a little about their life.  
  
His husband, who Juice forced to think of as Ronea instead of Mr. Telford-Tully, was a fulltime homemaker since fifteen years and Mr. Telford was a joint owner of a well-respected garage named Teller-Morrow, specialised in bikes. Ronea, of course, worked a great deal in the garden, grew a lot more than roses and loved his embroidery almost as much as he loved his kitchen and old truck.  
  
Normally, Juice would’ve been way more comfortable with – not to mention interested  in – bikes and trucks, but he’d never met a man who’d sewn his own patchwork coverlet and dried his own herbs before. Mr. Telford-Tully seemed to be a mixture of an old-fashioned farmer’s wife, a modern household pro and a damn sassy queer who, beneath the black hair and make-up, probably had the skills to outlast all the combined MC guys in California, his husband included, as well as the army, in the case of a zombie apocalypse or another civil war.  
  
It wasn’t a locked up, weak or in any way unwillingly subordinated whimp who’d not had an employment for fifteen years due to suppression or inability. Ronea Telford-Tully was, to Juice’s tremendous surprise, something as rare as a truly happy person. And Filip Telford, didn’t at all appear like a domineering tub-thumper who scared his husband into submission, but calm and respectful, not raising his voice or giving scary looks. Juice had seen and heard enough of those kind of men to realise that although Mr. Telford-Tully clearly had a the role of an old days wife while Mr. Telford took the one of an old-fashioned husband, their twenty-some years together were built on love, not controlling.  
  
It was that afternoon, while trying to eat the delicious scone with good manners, that Juice also came to the silent conclusion that Mr. Telford didn’t keep his wooden paddle solely for the chance to chastise potential rose vandals, but to discipline his freely submissive husband.  
  
When Juice had left the couple a little while later, it had been with an almost scary feeling of loss. He could feel it bodily, a close to panic like ache, as if he’d lost something important. That feeling had later mixed up with a sense of worthlessness, self-hatred and shame, for wanting something he wasn’t good enough to have. He’d had a binge, he’d thrown up and cried himself to sleep, so confused with what those two men made him feel, it felt like he was breaking.  
  
The next morning he’d gone to work, put up his usual brave face and hid this new, unexpected and highly unwanted feeling, until an unknown number showed up on his display by lunchtime.  
  
Ronea Telford-Tully called. The mesmerizing home maker with the raspy drawl and delicious scones called _him_ , Juan Carlos Ortiz, inviting _him_ for a roast dinner on Sunday. Instead of giving a polite, grown-up answer like _normal_ fucking people, Juice had hurried away from his tuna sandwich and into the bathroom, crying. He’d not known where the words came from, but he’d told the man in the other end, how strange all of this was to him, that he really wanted to come and was more than thankful for the invitation, but he’d actually never been invited for dinner before and it was…  
  
_A bit too much to swallow right now, huh?_  
  
The man had not sounded teasing at all, just kind and understanding, and while Juice was sniffling, Ronea had asked if he’d like to have lunch with him in the park next day.  
  
_As a soft starter to see how we feel about it?  
  
_ Half an hour in the park with a sandwich and coffee wasn’t as homey, but far more managable for Juice, who felt like he was falling deeper down a rabbit hole of some sort the more he met these men.  
  
_Safety first, Juice Ortiz. You’re a smart boy. I look forward to see you._  
  
The diminutive had not felt derogative or even teasing. When they’d hang up, Juice still felt a bit upset and fragile, but the aching loss seemed to have been filled, at least momentarily. The next day he’d been a bundle of nervous energy, worse than usual, and at lunch time he’d actually been shaking while walking to the park, prepared for a disappointment and in the same time not ready to be let down at all.  
  
When he’d seen Ronea Telford-Tully, as usual dressed entirely in black, with big shades on and a neat little paper bag with what turned out to be homemade tuna sandwiches and blueberry muffins, he’d cried again, too many emotions running through him and instead of leaving or telling him to calm down, the pale man with tattooed hands quietly asked if he could give him a hug.  
  
On the most secluded bench in the park, he’d been held by the man who’s roses he’d nearly ruined, crying like a child in his arms. It was so strange, but comforting. It was a feeling Juice hadn’t had for a very long time, just the sense of safety and protection in another man’s arms. He liked the way Ronea Telford-Tully smelled and sounded. How gently he stroke his shoulders and almost lulled him, like a protective… _papi_.  
  
_I don’t tend to meet people behind my husband’s back, Juice. I don’t ask him for permission, but I always tell him, you understand?_  
_  
Yes, sir. I mean… sorry, but it just feels wrong to call you… Ronea, sir.  
_  
_Such a polite little rose vandal you are, boy… That spanking seems to have made you some good…  
  
_ Juice had shivered from it. The diminutive, the way Ronea Telford-Tully’s voice dropped even lower, to a soothing murmur, and the mention of the spanking. He’d jerked offed to the memory a number of times, trying to relive how the couch had felt to his hips and cock, how embarressed he’d been and how the hard but controlled and well-aimed strokes had hurt but also made him feel alive and alert in a way that, for once, wasn’t clouded with stress and speeded heart rate.  
  
He’d felt accountable, honest and weird as it was, safe as Mr. Telford’s woode paddle had reddened his ass. He’d done wrong, he’d chosen to stay and ask for forgiveness and while he could’ve just ran away, he hadn’t. He could’ve gone done to the station, paying the fines for vandalising private property and went on with his life. Instead, he’d taken that punishment and had wanted to experience it again.  
  
Ronea Telford-Tully had taken his hand, leaning down to his ear.  
  
_You know what that paddle is used for, when we don’t get invaded by pretty little vandals, Juice Ortiz?_  
  
_N-no, sir._  
  
_At least once, often twice a week, I kneel and confess my shortcomings, big or small, to my husband… Then I lay across his lap, bare bottom, and he lovingly corrects me…_  
  
Juice almost started to shake then, which had the other man rock him a little more, soothing his emotions before leaning to whisper again.  
  
_Is that what you need, Juice Ortiz? You need my big, strong husband to bend you over his lap, teaching you to be a good boy? Helping you to stay out of trouble, huh?_  
  
_Yes… please… sir._  
  
Defiance? What defiance? The lunch break was over far too quickly and while the morning’s anxiety seemed to have disappeared, another sort of worry had Juice on edge for the rest of the day. It was an obsession, he couldn’t think of anything but that feeling he’d been unable to relive on his own. He wanted to be bad, _naughty_ , so that he could earn another spanking from Mr. Telford. By the time he was home from work and pacing around his apartment, almost near the edge of a binge, Mr. Telford called, saying that his husband had said Juice needed some… help.  
  
Juice remembered how desperate he’d felt. Desperate, anxious, even horny, and so fucking confused. He’d been scared to show it, but it probably shown anyway, and without really understanding how it had happened, he asked Mr. Telford to please, _please_ , come and see him. Letting in someone who on the paper wasn’t a stranger, but definitely not anything more than an accquaintance, was not a good idea, but at that point, all Juice could think of was to have that man and that man only, spanking him again.  
  
Mr. Telford had come. Courteous, calm and serious, but with that soft, friendly smile. He’d taken his shoes off, refused a drink and then they’d talked. He’d asked questions that had Juice cringe, not sexual questions really, but things concearning his health. He’d answered truthfully though, and finally, finally, the man accepted to spank him again.  
  
_I prefer to have the person in question over my lap, Juice. An’ I only spank bare bottoms._ _Will that be acceptable to ye?  
  
Yes, sir._  
  
_Safety words, lad. Green for keep going, yellow for slow down an’ red for complete stop. Alright?  
  
Yes, sir._  
  
Pulling his jeans down for the second time in front of this man, had felt just as embarressing as the first time and when he laid across Mr. Telford’s lap, he’d been half hard. The Scottish man pulled the boxers down, held Juice’s tense body close and spanked him using only his hand.  
  
It was a glorious feeling, despite the pain and humiliation – or maybe because of it. He felt safe, like his entire load of shitty emotions was kept in place over Mr. Telford’s lap and couldn’t run away with his head anymore. He’d been blabbering out nonsenss and afterwards, he’d felt dizzy and sore, worried that Mr. Telford would leave immediately, but the man had comforted him, assured that he’d never leave directly after a spanking without making sure the one who’d received it was okay.  
  
Juice hadn’t cried during the spanking, but he did once Mr. Telford said those words.  
  
_I don’ leave anyone alone after a session like this until he’s really okay, Juice._  
  
He’d cried because of the kindness, the gentleness, the warm words. From the way the scarred Scotsman said his nick name, so softly, like Juice Ortiz was a person that mattered to him. Mr. Telford had rubbed his burning skin with lotion and Juice had felt himself going fully hard, instinctively jerking down his hips onto the man’s jeans claded thighs. He’d not meant to but Mr. Telford hadn’t seemed angry or even irritated. Gently, he’d changed their positions so that he could still hold Juice, but not have him rub his cock against him.  
  
_I think my husband was right about ye, Juice Ortiz. He’s good with people, lad, an’ he told me he thought ye might need more… of us… Is tha’ right, lad?  
  
Y-yes, sir.  
  
Hmm… Think I prefer yer other name for me… First one to ever call me daddy…  
  
__I did what, sir? Mr. Telford, I… Oh, God…  
  
_ The embarressment was complete, far worse than the one the spanking had elicited and Juice wanted, didn’t want to, had to but couldn’t run off. It was, after all, his apartment and this beautiful, hot and positively irresistable man would leave him soon and never come back.  
  
There’d be no more kind smiles, soft hands or fragile tea cups. He’d never sit in that old-fashioned kitchen again, answer the polite questions and trying to figure the strange and in so many ways attractive couple out.  
  
_Ye wannae call me Daddy, lil’ one?_ _In tha’ case, I must ask Mr. Telford-Tully, if he’s interested to be yer other one. We’re happily married, Juicy, an’ it would be greedy not to share…_  
  
***  
  
He’d been a grown-ass man when he met his lovers. Thirty years old and no little kid anymore. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? Juice had never really been allowed to be a child. Or an adult in an adult relationship. His needs, wounds and loneliness were all tied up in one another. He’d always wanted what wasn’t for him and so, a thirty years old Juice Ortiz who had a daddy kink, family issues and a rape in his luggage he’d tried to forget about, felt like a complete mess in his Daddy's lap.  
  
He felt useless, pathetic and disgusting but still, the hand carding through his hair, the lips whispering in his ear, the soft kisses on his neck, told him that he not only could have, but had every right to the things he wanted. That he wouldn’t have to chase, catch and box away a supply of closeness and love to live off once he wasn’t wanted anymore.  
  
That he’d always be wanted. And loved.


	28. Ronea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little playtime for the daddies before bed, 'cause they need and deserve it^^ You'll notice that they shift between different ways of addressing each other here, having their own little dynamic for petnames and the use of "sir" :)

It had been a very emotional couple of days for all of them, but especially for Juice. The baby boy was already asleep in his Daddie’s bed and Ronea was finishing up the preparations for next day’s meals in the kitchen when Filip came in from the garden and locked the door. He walked over to Ronea and swirled his arms around him from behind.  
  
“How’s my man holding up?”  
“Tired.”  
“I’m taking Juice to the doctor tomorrow morning. Ye need anything done while I’m away, darlin’?”  
“I’m good, Filip.”  
“I want ye to get some rest while we’re at the doctor. Do something tha’s just for ye.”  
  
Ronea sighed.  
  
”Is that an order?”  
”Aye, love, it is.”  
”That’s what I thought. You know I’m not good at pampering myself when I’m worried, baby.”  
“Aye. Tha’s why I make tha’ decision for ye now.”  
“Well, it’s too late to make appointments.”  
“Why don’ ye go shopping then? Treat yerself with something for yer wardrobe or have a long, lazy coffee somewhere nice?”  
“You’re not letting me off the hook, right?”  
“Ye bet I’m not.”  
“You do realise that it’s not that common for blue-collars to actually tell their homemakers to waste money?”  
“Tha’s because very few people are as good with money as ye.”  
“Flatterer. But I really don’t think I need anything at the moment, Filip.”  
“Not even books?”  
  
Now Ronea smiled. His husband knew him too well.  
  
“Alright, since it’s an order, I’ll go. But right now I need something else.”  
“Aye? Wha’s tha’, darlin’?”  
“Your cock, baby. We’re both tired as hell but I could _really_ do with some pounding from my husband before I sleep.”  
“Is tha’ an order too?”  
  
Filip was nibbling his ear and Ronea hummed.  
  
“I don’t order my husband, I obey _his_ orders…”  
  
He was wearing tight pants and midnightblue, lace trimmed lycra hotpants and he put his husband’s hand by the band of his pants so it could slide down. Filip made a small, pleased sound against his neck.  
  
“Lovey, when did ye get yer fancy panties on? Ye didn’t wear’em this morning…”  
“I had a private moment to myself earlier… Does my husband approve?”  
“Oh, baby, ye’re divine in these…”  
“You’re gonna fuck me then, husband? Gonna put your little husband in place, make him feel good and safe as only you can, love?”  
“Maybe…”  
  
Filip bit a little harder, placing his hands firmly on Ronea’s hips. Ronea could feel his erection rubbing against his ass and he leaned back, bending his head backwards onto his husband’s shoulder.  
  
“Your little homemaker is bored, Filip. He needs some distraction…”  
“ _I_ think he needs a proper spanking.”  
“Why? Did I do something?”  
“No, but ye’re tense an’ the latest round I gave ye was very lenient due to yer illness, baby. I think ye need some more time over my lap, or something similar…”   
  
He _was_ tense and although spankings didn’t turn him on per se, they most certainly weren’t turn-offs either. Ronea rubbed back now, teasing really, and Filip grabbed his cock and balls outside his pants, hard enough to have him moan.  
  
“Ye’re unruly now, Ronea… If I didn’t know any better, I’d say ye’re a glutton for punishment. Ye don’ wannae obey yer husband?”  
“I wanna obey you, Filip. You know best, I wanna obey…”  
”Good boy… Tha’s wha’ I wannae hear, baby. Take a pillow from the couch, place it on one the the four edges at the table and bend over, legs properly spread, but keep yer pants an’ panties on.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
This kind of more playful spanking was not the same as a punishment or pure stress relief. It was a way of confirming their roles, to re-assure both of them of the boundaries they’d set together. Ronea quickly got the pillow and got in position, the pants fabrics tight like a second skin over his ass.  
  
He could hear his husband go to the livingroom and open up the cabinet there. When he returned, he had his rattan cane and Ronea was grateful he wasn’t bare assed. The rattan cane hurt more than the wooden paddle and Filip, as always, saw his slight worry and bent down to kiss him.  
  
“This is not a punishment for transgressions, lovey, but it’s not a stress relief either. I’m gonnae spank ye with my rattan cane to remind ye who’s making the rules of this house, rules ye’ve agreed to follow, but I’m also leaving yer pants on, because I’m not punishing ye. We’re clear?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Good. Now spread yer legs some more an’ lift yer butt up higher. I wan’ ye to take this reminder eagerly.”  
  
The position had Ronea blush but he obeyed and bulged his ass upwards as much as he could and he hissed as Filip put a hand between his legs and the pillow, rubbing his clothed cock from behind.   
  
“Getting wet, are we, baby?”  
“Yes, sir. My panties… are… all slick, sir.”  
“Naughty boy… Ye’re ready?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
When the rattan cane landed expertly on his clothed ass, Ronea mewled. It hurt and it hurt _good_. His strong, dominant husband used the cane with an expertise only twenty plus years could give, knowing exactly where to strike, how hard and how long to wait between the blows. The sense of being controlled, of obeying when he legally didn’t have to, only for the pleasure and need they both had, could make Ronea feel high.  
  
The control his husband had over both of them, released knots of stress deep down inside him, set his belly on fire in the best of ways and the amount he was leaking was almost obscene. His pants weren’t very thick and he knew he’d make the pillow damp and would have to wash it.  
  
Filip stopped for a moment, rubbing his ass.  
  
“Ye okay, lovey?”  
“More than, Filip… Please, fuck me…”  
  
His request was met with another strike, practically melting another bundle of tightened nerves and his sore muscles started to unlock, little by little. Filip put a hand on the small of his back, heavy and firm.  
  
“See how tense ye are, lovey? This is why I cannae fuck ye jus’ because ye want me to, Ronea. Wha’ kinda’ husband would I be, if I let my decisions ‘bout yer well-being be clouded by how much I wannae fuck tha’ tight arse o’ yers?”  
“But I want your cock _now_ , Filip.”  
  
The rattan cane fell again and Ronea let out a sob, causing his husband to replace it with a soothing rubbing.  
  
“Who’s in charge in this house, baby?”  
“Y-you are, Filip.”  
“So who’s deciding if ye can have my cock or not?”  
“You are, husband. Only you…”  
  
Giving up. Giving in. Giving over to his husband in full. Meek, obedient, trusting. That the man he’d vowed to love, cherish and obey twenty years ago, wouldn’t let him down but keep him safe and happy.   
  
Ronea felt shaky from want, as the tension fell off by every strike from the cane and when Filip stopped and tugged the tight pants down, he left the panties on, rubbing his cock over the silk covered cleft.  
  
“Gonnae come inside ye, baby, an’ then ye’re gonnae clench an’ keep my cum inside ye until I’ve pulled yer panties up. Then ye may come too… Wannae have those panties all wet from both o’ us, darlin’… If ye come before I say so, I’ll put ye in chastity lock for a week. Stay still now.”  
  
Ronea could only mewl in response as his husband quickly got the lube they kept in one of the kitchen drawers. He kept his ass high, his legs spread and then Filip folded the panties to one side, trapping Ronea’s cock in the silky fabrics as he coated himself and slowly pushed inside.   
  
“Ye okay, lovey?”  
“Yes… God, yes, Filip…”  
  
It felt fucking awesome. His husband’s cock was thick and perfect, stretching him so good and Ronea could feel them both throbbing from it. Filip kept his hands on his hips and pulled him close until he couldn’t go deeper.  
  
“Ye like this, baby? Ye like being pinned on yer husband’s cock?”  
“I love it, Filip. You’re so big inside me, husband. Love that big, fat cock… Oh!”  
  
His husband wasn’t lenient, making a firm pounding with his hips that had Ronea gasping. Filip took him hard, keeping a steady, controlled pace that took away every last piece of worrying tension and thought inside Ronea, replacing it with pure pleasure. He couldn’t think, just feel, and soon he was sobbing for real, begging for his husband to come because he was quickly unravelling too.  
  
He was an exhausted mess when Filip filled him up, shaking in his legs as he was told to clench his ass as Filip pulled his panties and pants back up.   
  
“Arse up, baby. Show me how badly ye wannae come. Tha’s my good lil’ homemaker… Lookin’ so good for me…”  
  
Filip bent him over the table and placed his own thigh between Ronea’s legs. Ronea was so hard he felt dizzy, dripping from the tip as well as leaking from his ass and he felt the soothing hand of his husband, stroking his lower back in circles.  
  
“So patient, Ronea… Beautiful… C’mon then, lovey, take wha’ ye want…”  
  
Considering how wet he was, it could barely be called dry humping. He rutted against the hard muscle in Filip’s thigh, feeling the orgasm take over almost too quickly, but he didn’t have to think or care or worry about anything. Ronea rode fast, grinding down hard and he came like that, still clothed, leaving big wet spots on his pants and Filip’s leg.   
  
His husband was very gentle as he held him to his chest, taking all of his limp weight in his steady arms. The tension was all gone now, Ronea felt completely relaxed for the first time in many days and he sighed happily.  
  
“Jesus Christ, Filip, I needed that… All of it. Thank you, baby.”  
“I love ye so much, darlin’. So glad I could make ye feel better. Lets jus’ clean up a bit an’ get to bed. Our lil’ one needs his Daddies.”


	29. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monday morning before the doctor's appointment.

The only good thing about this utter and complete exhaustion, was the fact that it seemed to cut off the anxiety and shame. He could barely move, feeling like he’d suddenly gained 200 pounds and if emotions could be measured in actual weight, it was probably a pretty close number. How the hell was it possible to feel this tired?  
  
Juice didn’t feel bad, really, not now. Papi was changing his filled diaper, which should’ve made him feel very ashamed, but even that didn’t reach him now. The only feeling was relief for having a fresh one and the realisation that his fucked up stomach seemed to work a little better, since it didn’t hurt as much. Papi washed him carefully, rubbed in aloe on his red buttocks and gave another shot of it up his still sore hole before putting a fresh diaper on. What had felt like humiliation before, now only gave Juice a sense of safety and protection. He didn’t like being unable to control his body functions, but he accepted it as something he temporarily couldn’t control. Acceptance was calming.  
  
Papi finished up and kissed his forehead.  
  
“There, all clean and dry, baby boy. Papi’s got you a bottle with some good stuff for your tummy before we brush your teeth. Can you lean onto Papi for a little while, sweetheart?”  
“Uh-huh…”  
  
Apparantly, he was too tired to answer politely, but Papi didn’t seem to care. He arranged Juice’s limp body to sit on his lap, leaning on his arm and shoulder like a baby. He took out Juice’s pacifier and replaced it with a bottle. Juice immediately started sucking and Papi tucked the cover over them.  
  
“There we go, baby boy… It’s Papi’s homemade hot peach soup. It’ll be nice and soft on your tummy and make it easier to sleep well tonight. Daddy’s in the bathroom and will be with us soon.”  
  
It all felt so… safe. He was a little bundle in Papi’s arms, even if his body was a grown man’s, and nothing and noone could get to him. The warm soup was nice and sweet, didn’t hurt his stomach and sucking on the bottle was soothing in itself. Papi’s voice was a low rumble, his scent so comforting and his arms warm and protecting.  
  
“Papi’s little love… Such a good, sweet boy you are, Juicy… Papi and Daddy love you so much and we’re gonna take such good care of you for as long as you need. You’re all safe here, baby boy, noone can hurt you and there’s nothing to worry about or be ashamed of.”  
  
Juice finished the bottle and then Daddy came, bringing toothbrush and the small bowl for rinsing, and helped him brush his teeth. When he was done, Papi helped him to lay down in the middle of the bed before rinsing and giving back the pacifier. It didn’t take more than a minute after Papi had cuddled around him, for Juice to fall asleep.  
  
He woke up the next morning, still feeling very heavy and tired, but not nearly as anxious as he’d felt for the past weeks. He was laying on Papi’s arm with Daddy’s body spooning him and Juice realised he’d used his diaper again, and not just a little. He tugged carefully at Papi’s soft bedshirt.  
  
“Papi? Papi…?”  
“Baby boy? You’re awake?”  
”Juice is wet an’ dirty, Papi.”  
  
Papi yawned and placed a small kiss on his hair.  
  
“Lets get to the bathroom then, sweetheart.”  
“Don’t think I’m steady enough, Papi.”  
“Papi will carry you, baby boy. Hold on.”  
  
Juice’s sleepy mind marveled a little at how strong Papi was. He carried him to the bathroom and laid him down on the floor, turned the bath tap on and then pulled his own hair back in a ragged tail. He took one of the old towels from the lowest shelf, placed it under Juice and then proceeded to remove the diaper and toss it in a plastic bag.  
  
Papi used wet wipes to clean him thoroughly and then he helped him to get into the tub. Juice leaned back but didn’t sink too low and Papi took a washcloth.  
  
“You’re not falling asleep, baby boy?”  
“No, Papi.”  
“Good. You and Daddy are going to the doctor after breakfast, so we gotta get you properly washed and clean now.”  
“Okay, Papi. Is… is it a nice doctor, Papi?”  
“The very best, baby boy. Wendy Case is a part of our community and wont judge you one bit, I assure you. Once we’re done with the bath and you’re dressed and had breakfast, you’ll call in sick and tell your boss you have a doctor’s appointment this morning with doctor Case. She’ll make sure you have the perfect doctor’s note for work, so you can rest and relax properly, sweetheart.”  
“Does… does she have to see me in diapers, Papi?”  
“Dr. Case’s spouse is a sub with capital s, baby boy, and the good doctor has been a member of the same club as Papi and Daddy for many years. Trust me, there’s _nothing_ she’s not seen at least twenty times before and a less judgemental person than her is hard to find. All she cares about, is her patients well-being.”  
“But… what if other patients… I mean…”  
“You have baggy pants and long hoodies, Juice. And besides, your Daddy is an expert in being discrete. Try not to worry so much, okay?”  
“Okay, Papi. I’ll try.”  
”Good boy.”  
  
It felt better when he was clean again and Papi let the water out to dry him in the tub. Getting out of the tub was a bit tricky, but with Papi’s help, Juice soon laid on a dry towel on the floor and was dried off, got some lotion where it was needed as well as a shot of aloe before a fresh diaper was taped around him. Papi then dressed him in clean shorts, the baggiest pants to be found in Juice’s packings, along with socks, a tanktop and last a longsleeved t-shirt.  
  
The diaper wasn’t visible unless you looked really close and Juice honestly didn’t mind it now. He wore it for a reason and the alternative was a hundred times worse. Papi took a towel to Juice’s short hair and then kissed his forehead.  
  
“You look perfectly normal, my little love. The diaper isn’t showing at all. Now, what does that little unruly tummy of yours have to say about breakfast?”


	30. Filip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Been a wee bit busy for a few days, but here's Filip with his lil' one in the waiting room at the doc.

Wendy Case wasn’t a person they met in private. The club was extraordinarily discrete, had members from entire northern Cali and they definitely didn’t know each and everyone. Case and her wife didn’t take part in the same events as Filip and Ronea but it was a more or less non-spoken rule that if you had some medical issues you weren’t comfortable sharing with your own doctor, a call to Dr. Case could sort most things out.  
  
Juice looked worse in the waiting room, Filip thought. Hollow cheeks and eyes, pale and simply exhausted. Four weeks was a short time to get this low, wasn’t it? Filip admitted to himself that he might not be the right person to tell, since he was blessed with a dedicated home maker who’d raise the red flags immediately if he suspected anything was wrong. Their little one, on the other hand, had no such daily help in his everyday life and this was the result. Filip stroke his boy’s hand, it felt heavy and limp. He leaned down to Juice’s ear.  
  
“How are ye holdin’ up, kiddo?”  
“Tired…”  
  
Despite the relatively exposion in the waiting room, Filip let his boy lean onto his shoulder for support. The buff body felt worringly heavy but the leaving out of “Daddy” in public, told Filip that Juice still was awake and present enough to keep in touch with reality.   
  
“Mr. Ortiz?”  
  
A nurse showed up in the door and slowly, Juice managed to walk into the doctor’s office, supported by Filip. Wendy Case came in, as always very professional and not for a second suggesting there was something more personal between her and Filip. She turned to Juice alone, introduced herself and after asking if he was alright with being alone with her – which he was – Filip left and closed the door behind him.  
  
He went back to sit down in the waiting room again, restlessly looking through some depressing magazines whos main goal seemed to be making people over thirtyfive feel like they were about to drop down any day. A part of him was a bit worried Wendy Case would interpret Juice’s red backside and diaper as signs of abuse and involuntarily submission, but if needed to, he had their contract ready to show her – with Juice’s consent, of course. Consent was, if possible, almost more sacred to the doctor than to Filip, which said for something.  
  
Of course, there would probably not be a quite so thorough examination. Waiting was kinda nerve-wracking to be honest, not because Filip worried his lil’ one would say things that put the blame on him and Ronea, but because it reminded of how he’d waited for permission to visit Ronea so many years ago, when the man he hadn’t even started dating yet, was laying in a hospital bed with a concussion and broken cheek bone. How he had to trust the staff to do what was best for this strong but still so fragile man, and not act like som hysterical loon.  
  
What if Juice felt too anxious or humiliated? What if he locked up and couldn’t talk? Filip trusted Wendy, but she’d never met Juice before and the boy was skittish to say the least. But he needed help and since he refused to visit his local health care centre, this was the only option left. The exhaustion was worrying to say the least and there was just no way in hell Filip would allow his sub to mistreat himself for any reason what so ever. Ronea was probably walking around anxiously downtown, silently cursing Filip for ordering him to take some time off household and Papi duty, while looking at his phone every fifth minute.  
  
Filip texted him, as much for his own as Ronea’s benefit, because the waiting was a bit more worrying than he’d anticipated. Of course, the answer came quickly, Ronea sending a picture on the coffee and croissant he had at a coffee shop to tell that he was in fact obeying the order to leave the house and treat himself while Filip and Juice were at the doctor. Filip smiled and sent a stupid little heart back, wanting to reward his husband some and perhaps even soothe the worry a bit. Ronea knew Filip would never keep important news a secret, so the smiley could be translated to “nothing’s gone wrong yet”.   
  
“Mr. Telford? Can you come with me, please?”  
  
He looked up at the nurse, who was smiling friendly, a sign that at least Juice hasn’t had some kind of panic attack or worse. Filip put his phone in his pocket and rose, following the nurse and somehow feeling slightly less anxious.


	31. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is taking place slightly before Filip is called to the doctor's office by the nurse.

He’d never liked doctors, male or female ones, and had always tried to avoid appointments. He took care of himself, well, he didn’t smoke and he went to the gym, was in pretty good shape… at least on the outside. Dr. Case and the nurse, how ever, didn’t seem overly impressed by abs and biceps as they took the blood samples and then the nurse headed away with them.   
  
His weight turned out to be normal, but when de doc told him to lay down to measure his blood pressure, she rose her eyebrows and Juice swallowed.  
  
“Wha’s wrong, doc?”  
“Your blood pressure is quite high, Mr. Ortiz.”  
”Juice, doc. You can call me Juice. I’m… what, my blood pressure?”  
  
Dr. Case, a really beautiful woman with curly, blond hair, nodded seriously and took her stethoscope off.   
  
“Ronea told me that you’ve had some difficulties with stress for a while.”  
  
Juice nodded.  
  
“Yeah.”  
“Okay. Can you open your mouth and say aah, please?”  
  
She looked, felt with her fingers around his throat and then, to Juice’s tired surprise, she took up his hands, looking at his fingers.  
  
“And I can tell right away you have swollen salivary glands and it looks like your gums are a bit sore as well. Do you floss?”  
“Yeah, mostly.”  
“Do you feel sick often?”  
“I…”  
  
Juice swallowed. The doc looked serious, but not harsh or unkind. Lying to her, knowing how disappointed his Daddies would be, not to mention it meant he was wasting both the doc’s and his Daddies’ valuable time – and money, overrode the impulse to hide. He looked down, avoiding her gaze and took a deep breath.  
  
“I… binge and purge sometimes.”  
“How often does that happen?”  
“Depends. Not done it since… since I met Filip and Ronea, really. Or… in the beginning it happened but then I thought it stopped…”  
“And before you met them?”  
“Don’t know, really… Once or twice a week, maybe. But then there were weeks when I didn’t do it all.”  
“Do you recall when it started?”  
“My twenties, I guess. When I started living on my own and… you know, had the money.”  
“Okay.”  
“I… I never throw up unless I’ve binged, doc. I don’t… I know I’m not fat or anything, I’m not trying to starve myself. And when I met Filip and Ronea…”  
  
Dr. Case held his hand now, nodding encouraging and Juice continued.  
  
“I… didn’t wanna tell them since it wasn’t an issue anymore, you know. I mean, it really stopped, doc. Hasn’t happened in like six months or so.”  
“Do you know what triggered it this time?”  
“Ronea caught the flu, so… we… we couldn’t see each other for a while. I know it’s fucking stupid, doc, but I got… I don’t know…”  
“Anxious?”  
“Yeah…”  
”Frightened?”  
  
Juice nodded.   
  
”Okay. I’m gonna press your stomach now, Juice. You tell me if anything hurts or doesn’t feel as usual.”  
“Okay.”  
  
A mewl of pain slipped him almost immediately and Dr. Case went a little lighter. It turned out Juice was sore all over and it was difficult to relax.   
  
“Is the diaper a part of your agreement or for medical purposes, Juice?”  
  
Juice blushed, trying to remember this doc was in fact a kinky bastard herself behind closed doors at home.  
  
“I… I’ve been too tired to… control myself for a few days, doc. Never happened before.”  
”You took laxatives after the binge?”  
“No, just… puked. Couldn’t… get it all up though. Ronea gave me laxatives later. I’m… I don’t like using diapers, doc.”  
“You’d be surprised by how many otherwise functioning adults who suffer from some form of short-term incontinence at some point in their lives, Juice. Nothing to be the least ashamed of. You have blood in your stool?”  
“Not now, I think.”  
“But you’ve had before?”  
  
Juice shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal of it.  
  
“Last time I went, before I got the laxatives, there was a little blood. Not much, though.”   
“Okay. How’s your daily life?”  
“My daily life?”  
“Do you have a lot of stress at work?”  
“Yeah, I mean… Don’t we all?”  
  
Dr. Case smiled.   
  
“I’m the first to agree that our society and way of living and working isn’t exactly promoting health, but then again, some of them are way worse than others.”  
“I work as a computor technician. Fulltime.”  
“And overtime?”  
“Yeah, quite a lot.”  
“How often?”  
“Every week. At least, two or three times.”  
“For how long have you been working overtime that often?”  
  
Juice sighed.  
  
“Coupla years, maybe. But everyone does.”  
“Doesn’t mean it’s right or good, Juice. I’m telling you, you’re showing an awful lot of symptoms for long-term stress, the bulimia in itself is contributing. Do you throw up or use laxatives after normal meals?”  
“Never.”  
“You know when or why you binges?”  
“When I… get worried, I guess.”  
“Do you know what it is you’re worried about?”  
  
Everything. Nothing. Being lonely, being together, wanting to belong, not knowing if he belonged… Juice turned his face away from the doc, down to the coarse paper on the examination table and cried.


	32. Ronea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Juice and Filip are at the doctor, Ronea tries to keep himself occupied downtown with hot chocolate and a litte trip down memory lane.

Sometimes he hated having to obey Filip. Ronea nibbled on the croissant, trying to concentrate on the book he’d brought with him to the coffee shop. Before meeting Filip, the only things Ronea had been able to indulge himself with, was booze or sex. Make-up, sure, but that wasn’t a treat, but a way of covering up. Skills to make sure bruises, cuts and dark circles stayed concealed. He didn’t use as much these days, not on daily basis.  
  
Little by little, as time went by, he’d come to trust Filip when telling him that it was more than just the love of a husband behind the compliments. That the signs of longterm abuse, stress and damaged self-image were in fact decreasing as weeks of obeying the rule of treating himself nicely turned to months and the relapses in self-injuring became less and less frequent.  
  
The first year of marriage had been way more overwhelming than any of them had been prepared for. They were both so young, twentyeight and twentyfour, and with no other couple close enough to really feel on equal footing with. The therapy with Tara Knowles had helped a lot, both with Ronea’s self-damage and his marriage, but a lot of work remained and it was the kind that spouses had to deal with together in the daily life.  
  
Ronea’s anger issues, that had shown in his temper tantrums early on, weren’t really directed towards Filip, but a post-reaction from years of suppressed anger during his time with an abuser. There were days when Ronea was so angry at himself and Filip and Aaron and the therapist and the fucking world, he felt like he’d combust from it. On such days, Filip didn’t bother with trying to correct or even answer him, only keeping an eye out for signs of potential self-harm. He’d learned that his crazy husband was better off having the time to just rage until he was out of energy.  
  
The hot chocolate with cream from a can sent Ronea down memory lane. Filip used to make hot chocolate after such tantrums, when Ronea had calmed down enough to actually sit down and not walk around like a stressed out animal. The hot, sweet beverage did him good and after a while, he could allow Filip to touch him, showing that by snuggling close.  
  
_I’m so sorry, Filip…_  
_  
I know, lovey, I know. Still love ye, jus’ as much._  
  
_I’m an asshole._  
  
_But ye’re my arsehole._  
  
Filip’s way of accepting his shitty sides, always amazed Ronea the first years. It wasn’t that Filip could read thoughts, he was just damn good at listening and learning the differences and nuances in the anger, tears and tantrums. When Ronea was trapped in the latter, Filip simply knew not to involve or talk back, no matter what Ronea said. Staying calm and out of the way, but not patronise or ridicule him like Aaron used to, was the best way to soothe.  
  
Only after Ronea had finished the chocolate and they’d talked properly – something Filip wouldn’t let him out of for any reason – the cause of the tantrum became clear, got lines and could be separated into respective box of problems and emotions. Instead of a thick, anxiety filled cloud of self-reproaches, guilt and confusion, they sorted out what was part of emotional reactions Ronea couldn’t really help, what was rudeness and what was right on disobedience.  
  
Being spanked after such an exhausting display of emotions worked like magic. It was so draining being pushed and pulled between the different feelings in his own head and body. Sometimes it was so bad, Ronea felt like he wasn’t even entirely in his own body until his husband spanked him. Over Filip’s lap, no tantrum could reach him, he was safe and secure, being told exactly when the punishment spanking was over and the one for emotional relief was starting.    
  
Usually, that’s when he could cry. When the fear, anxiety and self-hatred had finally been silenced, not ignored but farily outnumbered, and Ronea could just relish in the feeling of being completely pliant and trusting. Filip couldn’t and wouldn’t rule over his feelings, but he sure as hell could help managing them. Afterwards, when Ronea was done crying, Filip cuddled him for a long time, tell him how much he loved him, how proud and happy Ronea made him. By then, the voices speaking of worthlessness and running away, had gone completely silent and Ronea forgot that he’d believed himself to be disgusting and impossible to love.  
  
Obeying wasn’t always fun, no, but for more than twenty years, it had proven to be the best decision Ronea had ever made. He wasn’t suppressed, overruled or declared incompetent in any way, simply allowed to unload the crushing burden of making the final decision that, without Filip’s guidance, never turned out well in the long run. It made him feel free, strong and calm.  
  
As time went on, the obediance and submission, in fact had made him more independent than ever, not to mention very happy. It was a huge freedom in that, Ronea mused as he sipped on the chocolate. He didn’t have to put on a show, pretending to be strong when he wasn’t or, the other way around, reinforce his submissiveness in a way that didn’t suit him. Different couples within the dom/sub spectrum all had their own, personal way of living and exploring their respective roles. The club they were members of, was very strict with rules about respecting all sorts of dom/sub arrangements as long as you were a law-abiding citizen who followed the rules and didn’t have a previous record of any kind of abuse or fraud, or a medical record showing some kind of mental health care problem that could become dangerous in a club situation.  
  
Probably, Ronea contemplated over his half-eaten croissant, their fear of being too snoopy, had prevented him and Filip from asking for a more thorough medical examination. Juice had seemed perfectly healthy both on sight and according to the medical certification, but it was one thing to never actaully have received meds or other care for mental health problems, and a whole other to not suffer from it. Their baby boy wasn’t well at all, and they’d been too far away from his daily life to see the signs in time.


	33. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cursive parts are in past time, Juice just recalling what the doctor said, but he's with Daddy.

“It’s gonnae be okay, Juicy. Ye’re doing so well, lovey, Daddy’s so proud o’ ye.”  
  
The words didn’t really reach him, but the voice did. That low, kind voice with the distinctive accent that wasn’t a turn-on in any way right now, but just so calming. It wasn’t Daddy the lover who sat by his side, holding his hand on the small bed in doctor’s resting-place. It was a tiny, quiet room meant for patients who either was waiting for an ambulance or taxi, who had a fever or something that required them to lay down and rest.  I simple rubber mattress and plastic covered pillow with cheap linen that would be changed as soon as Juice left.  
  
Dr. Case had suspected low potassium levels, considering his high blood pressure and the fact that he’d purged. She’d said it wasn’t certain his levels were low, that it usually took a long time of regular throwing up to risk that, but she wanted to check anyhow. The results from the different blood tests wouldn’t be back for another day or two, but she’d contact them immediately when the did and she’d decided that Daddy – of course, she called him Filip – would measure Juice’s blood sugar levels and blood pressure every morning before breakfast and every night before dinner.   
  
The diet Papi had put together was well-balanced and didn’t need any changes apart from supplimentary drinks in case Juice couldn’t finish a meal, but what was needed since he clearly was so stressed and anxious, was a short-term treatment with Xanax. Juice didn’t like the idea at all, but the doc reassured him that taken during a short, controlled period of time for the specific reason to help his mind and body cope with the stress that had caused him to binge and purge, could be the best way to stop it before it got worse.  
  
What he needed was lots of rest, healthy and tummy-friendly food, good and stressfree routines, kindness and love, Dr. Case had explained after she’d shooed Daddy out. The last thing Dr. Case said was with a small smile, as if knowing how hard the last two parts would be.  
  
_“I don’t recommend you to live on your own right now, Juice. I’ll make sure that the certification to your work and insurance company is in good order and that it’s clear you’re having doctor’s orders to stay with friends for support. I don’t suspect there will be any troubles, since it’s very clear you’re on the brink of getting an actual ulcer and if your boss, Frederick Daniels, right?”_  
_“Yeah.”_  
_“If Mr. Daniels has half a brain, he realises that the best thing to do, is to nip this in the bud before it gets worse and forces you to stay away for longer.”_  
  
Juice had made a self-ironic smirk.  
  
_“He can’t sack me, doc, but he wont be happy.”_  
_“Will he be happier if this turns out to be an actual ulcer that gets worse by the day without treatment and under high level stress at work, forcing him to look for a temporary replacement to one of his best programmers?”_  
_“I’m good, doc, but not that good.”_  
  
Dr. Case had smiled again.  
  
_“Well, you clearly haven’t read the company credentials in a while, Juice. You’re an excellent programmer and one of the main reasons your boss’ company is so popular.”_  
_“Uhm… sorry, but how do you know, doc?”_  
_“Because when the clinic was getting a new system, we were reckommended to hire your company, since they had the best people on database security in the whole county.”_  
  
Then Juice had blushed, or should’ve, if he had any colour left. The doc, thankfully, had turned to make some notes.  
  
_“I’ll book you in for a follow-up in two weeks, Juice. I trust you’re staying with Filip and Ronea in the meantime?”_  
_“Uhm… yeah, at least they’ve said so.”_  
_“And how do you feel about that? Honestly.”_  
_“Like… I don’t want to be in the way, you know.”_  
_“But are they nice to you?”_  
_“God, yes, doc! They’re… amazing, I mean…”_  
  
He’d felt ridiculous, but it was an honest reaction. The very idea of anyone thinking Daddy and Papi weren’t nice to him, was just absurd. He blushed from this involuntarily display of devotion but Dr. Case had just smiled at him.  
  
_“I don’t really know Filip and Ronea in person, but they have a very good reputation at the club and I know a healthy relationship when I see one. Let them take care of you and I’m sure you’ll be back on your feet faster and feeling better than before you turned ill.”_  
  
Right now though, Juice didn’t feel better, only very fragile and sad. He didn’t really know why he had to cry and the only thought outside the exhaustion and Daddy’s strong arms, was a small gratituted for the private room that didn’t expose anymore of his condition to others. Not even the nice doctor.


	34. Filip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Daddy takes control again :)

Longterm stress, beginning of an ulcer, possibly low potassium and iron levels… no wonder the lad was tired and anxious. Filip stroke Juice’s cheek before he turned the car key. His lil’ one was like a ragdoll in the car seat, his face sticky from crying, but they’d soon be home and now, with the examination and tests done, the certification was already sent to Juice’s working place and the list with prescriptions as well as a delegate for Filip to get them for Juice, had been printed out for the pharmacy so he’d been able to get the meds – as well as more nappies – before they got home.  
  
The lad, of course, was completely exhausted. He was on the brink of sleep and a part of Filip felt bad for having this much personal information and, with the medical delegate, actual power over his lover. It wasn’t good, this amount of possibility to rule and control someone you’d not known for even a year. It put Juice in a very vulnerable situation and Filip made a mental note to be extra careful.   
  
It didn’t take long at the pharmacy, but Filip still didn’t like leaving Juice, not even in a locked car. The lad couldn’t use the pacifier either without risking unwanted attention and when Filip finally got back after what was probably not ten minutes but felt like an hour, Juice was a bit worried again.   
  
With acid blockers, Xanax, iron supplement as well as nutritional drinks in the plastic bag from the pharmacy, since Juice had no appetite and, naturally, had a very sensitive stomach at the moment, Filip felt like he was getting the right sort of control over his little one again. If he was too tired or too sore to eat, it would be a lot easier to have a drink instead. Furthermore, Juice was on strict rest, which meant as little stress as possible, no strenous activities, no demands that didn’t apply on his base needs and of course no surprises, caffein, alcohol or sex.   
  
Spankings was a no for a while, but considering how anxious Juice was, it would probably make him feel worse if he didn’t get at least some discipline, even if it had to be very lenient, of course. Some symbolic taps outside the pants – or nappy – would do for now. Adjusting the rules was one thing, foregoing them was entirely something else and a very bad idea.  
  
The lad needed the nappies for at least a few more days, possibly a week, before they could reduce the using to nights only. Juice got far too tense without them, worrying he’d loose control and although he didn’t like the nappies, he’d bent for reason and necessity. Filip decided he’d need to be entirely dry for three days and nights in a row before they stopped.  
  
“Daddy…?”  
“Aye, darlin’?”  
”Juicy is wet… an’ Juicy wants the pacifier.”  
  
Exhausted, ill, vulnerable and stressed out, but he did ask for help now, even if it was in third person, meaning he still felt worried. Filip got a lump in his throat as he took out the pacifier from it’s hidden place in the glovebox. It was kept clean in a small box and by the next stop, Filip sprinkled some water from his bottle on it before handing the soothing item over to his lil’ one.  
  
“There ye go, lovey. We’ll get ye changed as soon as we’re back home.”  
“Thank you, Daddy.”  
  
Filip kissed his forehead.  
  
“Ye’ve been such a good lad, lil’ one. Daddy’s so proud o’ ye. Papi will be proud too.”  
  
Juice just sucked on the pacifier in response, clearly done with talking for a while. Filip stroke his hair.  
  
“We’ll take care o’ ye, Juicy. Daddy an’ Papi will make sure their lil’ laddie gets everything he needs so he can get well again.”  
  
Still no answer, just those wide, brown eyes looking at him as if asking “you promise?” and Filip kissed his forehead again and took his hand.  
  
“Daddy promises, Juicyboy. Ye’re the most important person in our lives an’ we love ye so much.”  
  
Juice was too tired to answer but he did squeeze Filip’s hand with what little strenght he had left. For a man of Juice’s size and physical fitness, it was terribly weak. Now, how ever, Filip wasn’t nearly as worried. They could deal with this together, him and Ronea. With Juice’s permission and doctor’s orders and recommendations, they’d make sure the ulcer was nipped in the bud, deal with the roller coaster of emotions and use all their combined efforts and knowledge to help their darling boy.  
  
Ronea, of course, was already home when Filip turned in on the drive-way. Really, the idea was for him to be away to treat himself for a bit longer, but Filip didn’t view it as disobedience under these circumstances. Honestly, he was impressed that his husband had went away at all. Ronea very rarely disobeyed him, only if he for some reason was completely positive Filip was wrong and to be fair, those few times Filip _had_ been wrong. He was only human after all and his husband was neither subdued nor stupid.   
  
Filip nudged his little one.  
  
“Juicyboy, we’re home.”  
  
Juice just murmured something and then Filip saw Ronea coming out from the house. They very rarely switched vehicles, both of them were far too protective of their respective darling on wheels but today they had and Filip hid a smile as he saw how Ronea eyed his beloved truck as Filip eyed his Dyna Street Bob. Not that they didn’t trust each other but their vehicles were precious to them and deserved to be treated with care. Filip opened the door and stepped out, hugging his husband.  
  
“Hey, darlin’. Ye’re alright?”  
”Yeah, baby. How’s our baby boy?”  
”Knackered but he’ll be alright. Should get’im inside so he can rest an’ he needs to be changed.”  
“I’ll do that.”  
“No, lovey. I’ll handle it an’ in the meantime, could ye make me a cup of tea, please?  I’ll give ye an update as soon as Juice is tucked in.”  
“Yes, Filip.”  
  
Filip kissed Ronea. It wasn’t easy for his husband to step aside now, but he did because he trusted Filip to know what was best for all three of them and to curb the longing to care for Juice immediately, was probably one of the most difficult things to ask of Ronea. Filip smiled at him, nuzzling his nose.  
  
“Ye’re a bloody amazing man, ye know tha’?”  
  
Ronea blushed, which was a sight Filip honestly needed right now. The little smile was still a bit bleak, but as always, his bloody amazing husband trusted him and Filip could almost feel the relief radiate from the man, absorbing into himself and strenghten him.   
  
A lot of their friends and family hadn’t realised how absolutely crucial Ronea’s judgement and trust in Filip was for him to make final decisions. The worst thing Filip knew, was when his husband was unsure whether Filip had made the right decision or not, because the days when Ronea was a reckless, confused and scared young man were long since gone and he’d developed a sixth sence for when Filip needed his guidance in decisions that really was Filip’s to make.  
  
Too many people assumed Filip came home from work to a man who simply did his bidding, which couldn’t be less true. Sure, Filip had made decisions his husband didn’t like, but it was during those decisions that his selflessness, communication skills and sensitivity were really put to the test. It was Filip who constantly had to prove to Ronea that he was worthy of the trust by being a good listener, putting Ronea’s best first and let the result of the decision be the ultimate judge of how good or bad the decision had been. Had it been bad, well, then it was upp to Filip to make a better one.  


	35. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papi and Daddy don't take any chances this time with their lil' one.

In the days that followed, Juice felt as if a part of his otherwise greyish and colorless life had shifted into gold and it was overwhelming to say the least. In the mornings he was gently woken up at six to swallow down meds with a nutritional drink before going back to sleep for a while longer. Later, when his Daddies got up, Papi changed and washed him, checked his temperature and then tucked him in again.  
  
He didn’t have breakfast with his Daddies, but afterwards, when Daddy had left for work, Papi would come up to the bedroom with a tray. It was incredible, being cared for like this and the meds prevented panic attacks and kept the shame and fear to a minimum. Papi fed him smoothies or porridge for breakfast, opened the window to let some sun and fresh air inside and kept him company with a cup of coffee and smalltalk.  
  
After breakfast, Papi helped him brush his teeth and wash his face a bit before it was time for a nap. Juice snuggled into Papi’s chest and usually fell asleep to the sound of the man’s steady heartbeats.   
  
It was amazing, really. A spoilness of a kind Juice had never experienced. It wasn’t about money, because his Daddies weren’t rich, but their love and care spun a cocoon of safety around him that no money in the world could buy or exceed.  
  
The meds helped him relax and stopped enough of the pain and soreness for the days and nights to be more than bearable. He usually napped until lunch, who Papi fed him after changing the diaper. Then Papi dressed him and carried him out to the garden for some fresh air. Some days he watched Papi work with the herbs and flowers there, or listened to the sound of household work from the opened door. In the afternoon, when Juice had had another nap, Papi made coffee and a cup of  warm supplement chocolate drink for them.  
  
They had the snack outside and Papi read to him as they sipped on their respective beverage. Juice rarely remembered or followed the book Papi read, but it didn’t matter. It was soothing just to listen, to be snuggled up in his arms, sucking on the pacifier once the chocolate was finished and hearing the low, raspy voice. Later, Papi started with dinner and just before Daddy came home, he changed Juice’s diaper again and tucked him in for yet another nap.  
  
Sleeping and eating were his main tasks now, Daddy had explained, and once Juice was awake again, Daddy would give him a small, symbolic chastisement if Papi deemed he’d been diffucult during the day. It wasn’t even close to the usual spankings, but had the desired effect. Daddy would have his usual talk with him, but in bed, and then gently haul him over his lap, giving five or six firm but light swats that didn’t even hurt on his diaper clad backside, just reminded him that Daddy was in charge and that he was still the baby boy who was supposed to obey and be taken care of and no inner demons could change that.  
  
Juice always cried from the swats, because they helped him release emotions. The symbolic spanking would pull him out of any bad thoughts he’d had during the day and allow him to cry in Daddy’s arms. Then it was time for dinner and afterwards, Papi would give his baby boy a bath. It wasn’t strictly necessary every night, but the hot water was very relaxing and so was Papi’s bathoils. Juice felt like a ragdoll, but in a good way, from them and as soon as he’d had his temperature checked, had a shot of aloe, a fresh diaper and his pajama pants on, he’d be laying in Daddy’s arms by the telly and sucking on a bottle of Papi’s warm peach soup. Papi and Daddy had herbal tea and Papi usually worked on his embroidery while they watched series. Before brushing his teeth and getting tucked in for the night, Juice would get some more meds and he fell asleep in the middle of the large bed, hugged from both sides by his Daddies.  
  
For several days, the routine was almost exactly the same and the predictability helped more than Juice, if he’d been well enough to analyze the situation, ever could’ve thought. Pain and stress were decreasing, he was prevented from binging and purging, didn’t have access to alcohol or any chance to engage in stressful activities. Daddy or Papi – or both – were  always with him. It was, simply put, everything he needed, wanted and thought he didn’t deserve.  
  
Talking was difficult and his Daddies allowed him to get out of it for now. First things first, Daddy said, meaning that before they could have any serious talking, Juice had to be a bit stronger and more alert.  
  
The shame coming with the ever present sense of not being worthy of their love, Juice slowly realised was best handled by accepting being “little” for a while. The diapers, pacifier and bottle were all items he connected with the kind of good humiliation that, had he not been ill, could’ve a been major turn-on, but now the humiliation seemed to have disappeared altogether along with his libido. Now, all his stressed out body and mind wanted, was rest, safety and nourishment. The items that clearly didn’t belong to a grown man, somehow put his mind in a state that didn’t seem as frightened of showing need and emotions. Almost as if _he_ belonged somewhere, for real.


	36. Ronea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronea Telford-Tully is a dirty homemaker who's an expert when it comes to clean sheets and divine cookies...

Juice was napping and Ronea finished folding the clean laundry. He had another machine going and for the first time in more than fifteen years, he wondered if it would be less stressful having a job like his husband. It had been a testing day, although successful too, with Juice able to increase his meals a bit as well as going to the bathroom one time. Baby steps, Ronea thought while smirking to himself, as he put the coffee on.  
  
He loved his little afternoon break, when he was done with all his household and outdoor duties for the day save for dinner, and could put his feet up with a good book and some black gold. He’d had the same schedule for years where he planned the meals, went shopping, went to the library as well as finished any other downtown errends on Mondays. On Tuesdays, he cleaned the house and went to the gym, Wednesdays were laundry and bread baking days and two loaves of wholegrain toast bread, two trays with bread rolls and two trays with caramel and almond cookies were placed to cool down on the baking tray frame and spread a sweet and homey scent in the kitchen.  
  
Ronea had always loved baking and cooking and as a child he’d prefered to help mom in the kitchen instead of hanging out with dad in the garage – or watching sports. The caramel and almond cookies were her speciality and when she’d passed away and Ronea was back in his childhood home in preparation for the funeral, he’d found her collection of recipes and, without telling his dad, brought it back with him. He’d still been dating Aaron back then and for a couple of months the asshole had been able to actually act caring. Well, as caring as an unstable abuser _could_ act.  
  
The recipe collection had only meant to be a memory, at least that’s how Ronea had thought of it back then. Thinking that Elizabeth Tully’s amazing cooking would be treated as garabage by her idiot of a husband who could just barely operate a microwave, was just intolerable. It had been laying among Ronea’s other books for a long time, almost forgotten, until Filip found it while they were packing to move in together. Of course, it had been an emotional moment with way too much crying, but it had also felt good to show the recipes to someone who didn’t ridicule or shrugged at them, but took actual interest.  
  
Filip had asked about them, which were Ronea’s favourites, which were his mother’s own creations and if there were special occasions for them. It was a sweet memory, even if it took a long time before Ronea opened the binder with the intention of actually using it – or managed to make anything edible.  
  
The almond cookies were made with treacle and the taste was positively divine. Ronea took pride in his cooking and baking skills because it wasn’t junk food or booze that had built his husband’s beer gut, but delicious home made meals and cookies. Ronea had a standing job as the MC’s baker for the club’s recurrent charity events although Filip meant that vast majority of cookies, rolls and pastries were bought by Bobby, who’d given up on any other shape than _round_ a long time ago.  
  
Nibbling on a freshly made cookie while leaning back on the sofa, Ronea felt a bit guilty since Juice couldn’t have one. Not that it wouldn’t be plenty left for him later, but still. Ronea liked the idea of surprising both his boys with a little treat, imagining them coming home from work, tired and hungry, to be greeted with the smell of dinner and cookies, providing them both with good food made with love… Oh, well, that was one hell of a dream. Right now, his baby boy couldn’t even go to the bathroom, much less work and anything even remotely strenous for his stomach, would make him vomit.  
  
All and all though, Ronea felt kinda content right now. They had a proper routine again, all three of them this time, and they didn’t have to worry about each other. Most important, of course, Juice couldn’t hide his pain in shame and self-hatred anymore and the fact that it was testing to say the least, their young lover being so fragile and self-destructive, didn’t make Ronea regret it at all.  
  
The path from self-hatred, destructiveness and fear was a long, bumpy and strenous one, Ronea knew that better than most people.  
  
“Hi, darlin’…”  
“Hey, baby.”  
  
Ronea hadn’t heard the door and before he could get up to give his husband a kiss, Filip hugged him from behind, nuzzling his hair.  
  
“How are my boys doin’, lovey?”  
“Alright.”  
  
Ronea smiled as he got a kiss on the side of his neck.  
  
“Juice is napping already, he’s had some small tantrums today.”  
“About what?”  
“The usual. Not wanting to sleep, needing to sleep, being cranky and arguing about every little detail… If I didn’t know how bad he feels, I’d think we’d gotten a brat in the house.”  
“Sounds like someone needs some discipline.”  
“Yeah, but to be fair, he did go to the bathroom once and he finished all his lunch as well as the snack. So he deserves some praise too.”  
“Oh, tha’s _really_ good.”  
  
Filip smiled now, looking happy and proud.  
  
“Ye’re so good with him, baby. I think a certain brilliant Papi deserves some praise as well.”  
  
He kneeled down and Ronea made a small, tired laugh.  
  
“Baby, you’ve just come home from a long day…”  
“I finished early so I could get home to my boys. An’ now it seems like I can have my big lad all to myself for a little while…”  
  
Ronea huffed.  
  
“If I wasn’t so tired, Filip, but I really feel like some kind of stranded whale right now.”  
“Ye don’ wan’ me to give ye a nice, slow cock suck, lovey?”  
“Jesus Christ… You know I’d love to, but I really can’t reciprocate now, baby.”  
“An’ since when is tha’ a problem? I’ve got hands, ye know.”  
  
Now Ronea laughed because this was so typically Filip. Always practical and never expecting anything more than Ronea could give. Filip nuzzled down the inside of his thigh and Ronea widened himself a bit more, slithering further down to give better access. Filip hummed in appreciation and unbuttoned Ronea’s pants where there was already half hardness.  
  
“How’s yer arse, lovey? Still sore?”  
“As sore as I need it to be, baby.”  
“Good…”  
  
Picking up their routine had meant Ronea got his usual spanking every Friday night and Tuesdays if his husband deemed it necessary, either for breaking a rule or for emotional relief. Last night he’d bent over Filip’s lap receiving a proper round with the big, wooden hairbrush for snapping and being rude twice in the same day, as well as for obsessing over the household chores and feeling guilty about Juice’s condition.  
  
The soreness hadn’t been uncomfortable during the day, at least not much, and Ronea liked the sensation because it helped him remember not to obsess, just as it helped Juice. Right now, the tingling sting collaborated with the magic of Filip’s mouth in the best of ways and Ronea bit back a moan as he felt the soft, wet heat sliding down his shaft.  
  
“Yeah… Tha’s… Tha’s good, baby…”  
  
As knackered as he was right now, he’d not last half as long as usual and especially not when Filip slipped two fingers inside his mouth, wetting them thoroughly before sliding down to his perineum. He rubbed in circles, working slowly with his mouth and Ronea could just lay back and feel. He fucking loved being fingered like this, Filip kept a steady and hard rhythm, pumping against that bundle of nerves as he bobbed his head faster while stroking himself at the same time.  
  
The orgasm hit Ronea way faster than usual, probably due to the tension and weariness, and he muted his cry in the crook of his arm as his husband swallowed him to the last drop. When Ronea’s breath slowed down, he grabbed Filip’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He could feel the man’s hardness and Ronea pulled up his own shirt and folded his panties down a bit more.  
  
“That was awesome, baby… C’mon, soak your big boy’s panties before you spank our baby boy…”  
  
Filip’s eyes were half-closed as he stroked himself, working his thick, dark and uncut cock slowly, pre-cum glistening at the top. He didn’t shave as much as Ronea, but he kept himself trimmed and Ronea took his balls in his palm, making his husband moan. Ronea sighed, husky and low.  
  
“Gonna give this to me, baby? Gonna come in your little husband’s panties…?”  
“Jesus _Christ_ , Ronea…”  
  
His husband spilled inside the black lycra panties with a strained groan and then he leaned in for a kiss, positively cutting Ronea’s as well as his own air off. They fell into a panting pile, Filip hauling Ronea onto his lap so they could rest for a while. He stroke Ronea’s back in circles.  
  
“Wha’ instrument would be proper this time, lovey? Is he fit for bare bottom yet?”  
“Yeah, you can pull the diaper down, but don’t be too hard. He needs a little bit more than the symbolic taps, but I think the hand will be a bit too heating for him. The small birch whisk, maybe?”  
“Aye, it’s probably managable for him…”  
  
Ronea hummed into the crook of Filip’s neck.  
  
“I can only speak for myself, baby, but it feels so old-fashioned and proper in way, with the twigs. Stings like hell, but the whisk is way more mild and will help him to get in the right mindset faster.”  
“Right mindset?”  
“You know, to accept he’s not able to look after himself at the moment. If you’re using the brush today, I think he’ll get into the mindset where he sees himself as more capable of handling things than he really is right now.”  
“Behaving like a lil’ boy means treating him like one, aye, lovey, ye’re right.”  
“And smother him in kisses and cuddles afterwards.”  
“Don’t I always?”  
“Of course, but he’s been testing my patience all day and we’ve not had enough cuddles. He’s probably gonna feel bad for being unruly and you’ve gotta nip that guilt in the bud. Please, make sure he knows I’ve forgiven him before you’re done, okay?”  
“Absolutely, lovey. He’ll need to appologise to ye too, of course, but I’ll tell him Papi isn’t angry with him.”


	37. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being rude to Papi has consequences... some of them might even be good.

“Well, laddie… How’s yer day been?”  
  
Daddy wasn’t scolding, at least not yet, but he had his stern Daddy voice and Juice turned away.  
  
“Look at Daddy, Juice. It’s rude to turn yer back on yer Daddy when he’s talking to ye.”  
  
Still feeling oddly defiant, Juice turned back but kept his eyes down, not really feeling like he wanted – or deserved – to look Daddy in the eye. He felt ashamed and angry, confused too and like he deserved nothing less than being thrown out of the house and his Daddies’ lives. Daddy rubbed his shoulder gently.  
  
“Difficult day, huh?”  
  
More like difficult fucking life, but Juice didn’t feel like talking at all now. Papi had changed him recently and he knew he was getting a spanking so he shrugged.  
  
“Just do it…”  
  
He knew before he even finished the sentence how far out of line he was and if he hadn’t, the way Daddy’s eyebrows rose spoke loud and clear.  
  
“ _Excuse_ me, lad?”  
  
Now it was the scolding voice. Daddy was _not_ pleased right now and he shook his head in disappointment.  
  
“Well, not only did yer attitude towards Papi earn ye the whisk instead o’ my hand, ye’ve also just doubled the amount.”  
“But, Daddy…”  
“No talking, lad, unless ye’re eager to double it a second time.”  
  
Juice quickly shut his mouth and Daddy sighed.  
  
“It’s clear tha’ ye’re not ready to talk properly yet, Juice, so for yer own butt’s sake, I thinks it’s better tha’ we have the talking _afterwards_ today. Are ye wet?”  
  
Juice just shook his head. Daddy patted his shoulder.  
  
“Then I suggest ye stand on yer knees and pull yer pants and nappy down.”  
  
Daddy was not in a good mood and Juice obeyed, laying himself across Daddy’s lap and shivering a bit as he set in place. Daddy stroke his hair.  
  
“Tha’s better. I’m _disappointed_ with ye, laddie, but I’m not angry. I highly reckommened ye to stay still now like a good boy.”  
  
Daddy was absolutely disappointed. He spanked harder than he’d done of lately and the whisk stung enough for Juice to start writhing and sobbing. Daddy stopped.  
  
“Juice, Daddy told ye to stay still.”  
“I… I’m _trying_ , Daddy. I promise.”  
  
He was already on the verge of crying and didn’t mean to be difficult now. Fortunately, Daddy seemed to understand that and handed him a pillow.  
  
“Hold onto to this, kiddo, aye? We’re soon done, ye’re doing good.”  
“Th-thank you, Daddy.”  
  
Daddy started spanking again, the small whisk was _far_ too efficiant, but as Juice started crying for real, involuntarily writhing on Daddy’s lap, the pain started to relax him, broke down the defiance and anxiety and he cried louder but remained obediently in place, clutching the pillow.  
  
When Daddy finally stopped, Juice’s backside was throbbing and stinging properly, and Daddy as usual had him laying in his arms to shush him on the bed as he calmed down.  
  
“S-sorry, Daddy…”  
“I know, lil’ one, an’ ye’re forgiven. Jus’ let Daddy hold ye for a minute before we talk, aye?”  
“O-okay, Daddy.”  
  
There was a kind of cuddles only Daddy could give, that made Juice feel completely safe from both inner and outer threats. Daddy’s arms were his fortress, protecting him from everything including himself and Juice sniffled into his chest.  
  
“Was a jerk to Papi all day, Daddy…”  
“How come, kiddo?”  
“Don’t have any good excuse, Daddy.”  
“No, but there’s a difference between excuses and reasons, laddie. Why don’t ye tell Daddy yer _reasons_ for being, as ye call it, a jerk to Papi, an’ then we’ll see if there’s any excuses for them?”  
“Doubt there are any, Daddy.”  
  
Daddy smiled now, kissing his neck.  
  
“I doubt that too, lil’ one, but Daddy still wants to know wha’s on his Juicyboy’s mind. Lemme get the blanket for ye first. Tha’s better. Now, take yer time, lovey, Daddy’s here.”  
  
It wasn’t easy to talk, but the spanking and crying had calmed Juice down a bit and he snuggled in closer to his Daddy.  
  
“Feel like a seesaw… Daddy, there’s… I don’t feel like I control _anything_ anymore.”  
“Wha’s the most frightening thing ‘bout it, lovey? Ye can speak yer mind, Juicy, even if ye think it’s rude or disobedient. Speaking yer mind is _never_ a reason for punishment as long as ye’re respectful, lad, ye know tha’, right?”  
“Yes, Daddy. I… I try and remember that, but…”  
  
He sighed, a sound of both exhaustion, sadness and also pleasure, since Daddy was scratching his hair in that nice, soothing way now.  
  
“P-please, don’t be angry with me now, Daddy… I… I really don’t know how to express myself without sounding… I donno, whiny or rude or whatever…”  
“Hey, now… I know this is hard for ye, sweetheart, but ye’re doing _so_ well now, talking to Daddy. An’ we don’ punish feelings in this house, Juicy. Or bad memory. Ye were unruly and rude before, but ye understood ye did wrong, ye took yer spanking and ye’re _completely_ forgiven. When we’re done talking, ye’ll ask Papi for forgiveness an’ I know he’s longing to give his lil’ one a good cuddle.”  
  
Daddy kissed his forehead and then looked at him with his calm, loving eyes.  
  
“Keep going, lovey. I wont be angry or impatient with ye, I promise.”  
  
More soothing pets and Juice felt safer now, cuddled close under the blanket with Daddy’s strong arms around him. After a little while, his breathing got calmer and the words and thoughts seemed less tangled. He took a deep breath.  
  
“All of this… You an’ Papi being so nice to me… It makes me anxious.”  
“In what way, darlin’?”  
  
Despite Daddy’s promises, Juice wasn’t prepared for the immediate acceptance and he looked at the man’s face, searching for a sign of disapproval. Daddy, how ever, just kissed his forehead and stroke his cheek.  
  
“Ye see, lovey? Daddy’s not angry with ye. It makes me sad to hear my lil’ one gets anxious, but I learned my lesson too, when I spanked ye for yer eating problems instead of listening to ye. I was a very bad Daddy that time.”  
“I never think of that, Daddy. You’re the best Daddy in the world.”  
“Thank ye, Juicyboy. Ye’re the best lil’ one I could ever wish for, so please, trust me when I say I wannae, no I _need_ to hear how ye’re thinking an’ feeling. Keep talking, my love. Right now, it’s jus’ ye an’ Daddy an’ we’ve got all the time we need.”  
  
Juice sighed, fiddling a bit with Daddy’s shirt as he did when he was worried but not anxious enough to hide.  
  
“I… I’ve never really _had_ anyone before, Daddy. Had hook-ups and fuck buddies, but… You know people always think I’m either manipulative or just stupid. You know what the social services used to call me?”  
“What, lovey?”  
“A pleaser. I was small and skinny like a fucking twig and being a _pleaser_ was the best way to… not get my ass kicked all the time.”  
  
He let out a small laugh that wasn’t happy in the slightest.  
  
“I’ve lived in… more than fifteen different foster and juvie homes from New York to Phoenix, Daddy. First time I ever had a fucking _key_ was when I turned eighteen and got a room at a flophouse in Bakersfield. Wasn’t a pleaser because I liked it, Daddy…”  
“Ye merely tried to survive.”  
  
Juice nodded.  
  
“Yeah. See, Daddy, I’m not… used to… the way you and Papi are. Can’t really read people that well, you know.”  
“An’ people have lied to ye an’ let ye down many times before, haven’t they, Juicy?”  
“Yeah…”  
  
It was muffled, as he bent into Daddy’s chest, tears flowing again and Daddy rocked him slowly.  
  
“I understand this is very difficult for ye to talk about, sweet darling, an’ I’m so proud o’ ye an’ grateful ye’re sharing this with me, Juicy. Wha’ more do ye feel alright telling Daddy ‘bout them foster homes, lovey?”  
“Got beaten a lot. Not that I didn’t deserve it sometimes, but… it was a lot.”  
“Ye do know tha’ neither me nor yer Papi condone any kind of abuse, Juicy? The way we see it, if it’s illegal to hit a grown man but legal to hit a wee child, there’s something wrong with the justice system. The only time it’s okay to hit anyone, is in self-defence or if it’s a mutual agreement like ours, where _consenting adults_ make the rules together and don’t intend to cause harm.”  
  
Juice huffed.  
  
“Well, most of my foster parents had a different view.”  
“Ye’ve ever met yer biological parents?”  
“No. My mom gave me up for adoption, she was only fourteen so I don’t blame her. She died some years later and I have no idea who my biological dad is. Problem was, the couple who was supposed to adopt me, changed their mind when they got pregnant.”  
“Mary, Mother o’ Christ… I’m so sorry, Juicy.”  
“S’okay, Daddy. I was two, I don’t remember much of it. But, basically, I’ve been living with one foot out of the door until I was nineteen and got a real apartment.”  
  
He laughed but it ended in sobs.  
  
“I’m good with tech stuff, Daddy. And bikes, I guess. That’s what saved me, literally. But I’m fucking _useless_ when it comes to relationships, always have been.”  
“No-no-no, laddie. No, ye’re not useless with relationships, ye’re _unused_ to them, which is a completely different thing.”  
  
Daddy kept rocking him, holding him close and Juice just cried into his chest.  
  
“Ye know what Daddy thinks, Juicyboy?”  
“No, Daddy.”  
“Daddy thinks his sweet lad is ashamed of how much he needs us, tha’ all them nasty people Juicyboy met before us, have forced him to not become too close with anyone because in his life, people have hurt and left him.”  
  
Juice only cried more, because it was the truth and Daddy hummed softly in his hair.  
  
“Tha’s what I thought… an’ what more, I should’ve seen it sooner an’ Papi too. We let our fear of being too intrusive come in the way of our judgement an’ didn’t realise how ye were hurting, lil’ one. I take it tha’ all this shame an’ worry an’ anxiety, are at least partly the roots of this binging an’ purging too?”  
  
Juice nodded, unable to answer now, the crying taking over entirely. Daddy kissed his crown.  
  
“Ye’re getting so worried when ye’re not in control an’ still, ye yearn for it, don’ ye? To let go completely an’ trust us, like Papi trusts Daddy. Is it so tha’ ye were unruly and defiant because ye’re used to being _called_ tha’ by others even when ye’re not, so if ye feel ye’re a naughty lad, well then ye assume ye must be so why not go all the way an’ _act_ naughty too?”  
  
More tears and Daddy shushed him in his arms. Juice sobbed like there was no tomorrow, clutching Daddy’s shirt, because his lover was more right than he’d know.  
  
“Hate myself, Daddy…”  
  
Instead of chastising him, Daddy cupped his face and gave him a soft kiss on the lips.  
  
“Then I guess me an’ Papi will jus’ have to love ye even more. Ye may be our wee lad, but there’s a lot to love about ye, Juice. _A lot_.”


	38. Filip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daddy reflects while his little one gets fed in Papi's lap. (And I'm actually going to bed, gaelige^^)

In a way, it should’ve been more proper to put Juice into bed early. After all, he’d been quite naughty and was also very tired, at least emotionally, from the tantrums, the spanking and most of all the talking. But Filip also knew that what the lad needed, maybe even more than the rest, was closeness. Taking care of bikes and cars, grumpy customers and co-workers for a whole day didn’t seem even half as strenous as Ronea’s and Juice’s day.  
  
Of course, Ronea thought it was enough that the provider of the house had worked, dealt with their sick lover and given his husband head before he even had dinner, but Filip was neither old nor fragile, thank you very much, and the times when he chose to wait for Juice to ask for that kind of closeness were over. It was clear as day, now as Filip had finally managed to have the lad talking, that what was necessary, was for Daddy and Papi both to let Juice latch onto them. That also meant Filip did something he’d never do unless he absolutely had to. He stepped into Ronea’s area and ordered – yes, _ordered_ – his husband to cancel whatever plans he had for dinner and instead choose some healthy take-aways for them, under the threat of chastity device for a week or two.  
  
Yes, Filip Telford had his weak sides and blind spots, but the moment he straightened his back and lifted his thick head to take a proper look around, he also had a good eye for the entirety of things. Ronea was only a little unhappy with the stomping into his work area and far more relieved because he was almost as tired as their little one and thankfully aware of it. As long as Filip didn’t try to cook anything himself, the overruling could be tolerated in a case like this.  
  
While Ronea decided on which takeaways they’d had later, Filip fed Juice a bottle of mild veggie soup and some rosehip soup for dessert. Usually, lads who’d been rude to their Papi’s and Daddie’s should go without dessert, but that rule didn’t apply to a broken little heart who was malnourished and had issues with food. They’d never ever use food as a punishment in any way, that was a rule Filip and Ronea had decided on together after that unfortunate time when Filip had spanked Juice for binging and purging.  
  
Depriving someone who not only was malnourished and had eating problems, but also most likely had grown up experiencing hunger due to grown-ups denying you nourishment as a punishment or even out of rightdown spite, was a complete no-no and Filip wondered if the small sign of separating food from behavior and punishment, maybe could actually help with more than just nourishment.  
  
He’d seen many kinks in his life and nothing surprised Filip anymore. This, how ever, wasn’t a kink in that sense, but more of a deep-seated need for care and protection. Juice didn’t get turned on from this unless he felt humiliated in a special kind of way and it was a relief to know that as far Filip could tell, this particular thing wasn’t at all about sex for any of them, but something his lad just needed to experience in order to let go and allow himself to relax. If he needed nappies, pacifiers and bottles to decrease his anxiety and learn to trust his lovers, then he’d have them.  
  
It was interesting, the way Juice was so desperate for chastisement and forgiveness. In a way it was clearly unhealthy and needed to be nipped in the bud, but for the moment, Filip felt like his lad wasn’t nearly emotionally strong enough to believe in love and care without a reason to beg for forgiveness and take the punishment, partly wondering in worry and anxiety if his apology would be accepted, the spanking followed by cuddles and kisses and, most important, the lecturing words being replaced by those of love and praise.  
  
Maybe the nappies, although the reason Juice needed them was one neither of them ever wanted, were a blessing in disguise as well. Getting changed as a grown man was humiliating to anyone, especially if you were physically capable of going to the bathroom and it sure as hell wasn’t a turn-on for any of them, but Juice needed the nappies for both physical and psychological reasons. They helped him relax and not worry about his tummy, which was absolutely necessary to nip the beginning of the ulcer in the bud. Being so tired meant that Juice could have accidents and the last thing he needed was to focus on his tummy and worry up to an actual ulcer. The other part was mainly psychological, as the spankings and the bottles, and was meant to give Juice the experience of being completely cared for without feeling riduculed, rejected or disgusting. To help him feel as loved and cared for as possible, when he felt the most useless, weak and embarressed.  
  
The grown, exhausted and hurt man who really felt like a wee lad right now – and obviously _needed_ to feel like one – sucked idly from the bottles, finishing both the broth and dessert and then asked for his pacifier which, of course, Filip gave him while praising the eating.  
  
“Good boy, Juicy. _Good boy_ , finishing all yer dinner.”  
“Thank you, Daddy.”  
“Ye’re feeling full, laddie?”  
“Yes, thank you, Daddy.”  
  
After the spanking, talking and appologising to Ronea, Juice had become very meek and needy. Of course, being the soft Papi he was, Ronea didn’t mind one bit, but understood completely that the lad had special needs at the moment. So did Filip.  
  
As much as Juice had needed his stern, strict Daddy earlier, he craved Papi’s special brand of nurture to feel complete, especially when he was this tired. Which was why, once the bottles were finished, it was high time for a bath with Daddy, to make a good transition from talking and spanking, to relaxation with him as well.


	39. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some wise words from Papi, before bath time with Daddy... which is indeed a bit different from the bath with Papi.

The spanking had been very emotional and Juice felt sore in more ways than his stinging bottom could tell. In a way he felt extremely weak, but not really the same as before the spanking and talking. Drowsy and clingy, sensitive and fragile, but more than anything _safe._ He liked the way his sore skin felt against the diaper, how it made him feel protected and secure. The shame was still there, but it wasn’t very loud and didn’t cause him to tense or worry.  
  
He just registrated it, almost neutral, as he sucked on the bottles and then the pacifier, while his grown-up body slowly let go of the control.  
  
Papi didn’t talk to him, just held him and let him lean into his chest, giving privacy really. Then, when Juice’s body was done, he kissed his hair.  
  
“You’ve used the diaper now, baby boy?”  
“Yes, Papi.”  
  
The shame told him he was disgusting, pathetic and that this was so fucking wrong, but it didn’t really register when Papi kept petting and holding him.  
  
“Are you done, sweetheart?”  
“Think so, Papi.”  
“Does it hurt?”  
“Jus’ a little. Feel… embarressed though, Papi.”  
”I know, baby boy, it’s natural since you’re a grown man, but if you can manage to accept the shame, just register and acknowledge it without fighting or judging, riding the wave really, then it will pass faster and that, in turn, will also help your tummy to heal sooner.”  
“How long do you think I’ll need the diapers, Papi?”  
“Well, I can’t tell for sure, of course, but I strongly suspect that once you’ve healed a bit more, body _and_ mind, you’ll relax enough for your tummy to be back to normal again. And the doctor said it’s probably better for you to use diapers for a while, instead of adding stress by worrying about loosing control.”  
  
Papi kissed his nosetip.  
  
“Papi knows how that feels like, baby boy. I know how embarressed and vulnerabe one feels when you’re no longer in control of your body, but trust me, there’s no _bad_ shame in this house. When any of us feel like we’re at our lowest, like you do now, we don’t tease or ridicule or punish, Juicy. We love and care, we nurture and keep order. We do whatever it takes for each of us to get back on our feet. If you need diapers for a while, then you need diapers for a while and there’s nothing wrong with that. All that matters is that we all work together, each of us in the way we’re capable of at the moment, to do what’s best.”  
  
The man gave his brilliant, loving smile and nuzzled Juice’s nose.  
  
“I think it’s time for your bath, baby boy. Daddy, from what I hear, has already turned the water on.”  
  
A minute later, Juice was laying on a towel at the bathroom floor, trying to accept and ride the wave of embarressment as Daddy removed the diaper and cleaned him with wet wipes. When he was done, Daddy helped Juice to sit in the tub before throwing the diaper in the trash, wash his hands and get undressed.  
  
Bathing with Daddy was very nice and Juice could just lean back onto his chest, letting the water sooth and carry his weight. The heat made his well-spanked skin sting without adding uncomfortable pressure and Juice sighed in pleasure.  
  
“Thank you for the spanking, Daddy.”  
“Ye’re welcome, lovey.”  
  
For the first time in weeks, Juice felt a pull of want in his still sore belly. He could feel Daddy’s soft cock floating up against his red ass and although there was no way he was fit for actual fucking in a while – and was on a temporary benzo treatment – the earlier release of emotions had made him so relaxed, he actually felt… horny. When Daddy took the wash cloth lathered in unperfumed soap, Juice shuddered a bit.  
  
“Wha’s wrong, lil’ one?”  
“M’ hard, Daddy, and it’s… irritating.”  
“Jus’ means ye’re relaxing, darlin’.”  
  
Juice sighed at that, knowing he was pouting a bit, but Daddy smiled against his neck.  
  
“Let Daddy take care of it, Juicy. Alright?”  
“Alright, Daddy. Still irritating, though.”  
“Lets see if we can remedy tha’. You’d like tha’, laddie?”  
“Just don’t like it when the water gets all yucky.”  
“Tha’s what the cloth is for.”  
“Eww!”  
  
Daddy laughed.  
  
“We have more than one of these, ye numpty. We’ll get a clean one afterwards. An’ ye’ve been so very good an’ brave today, Juicy, I think ye’ve deserved some release.”  
  
The praise and Daddy’s husky voice had Juice shiver again. Daddy wrapped the lathered cloth around his cock and Juice let out a small, needy moan as the hand started stroking. The fabric gave a perfect friction, hot, wet and just slippery enough.  
  
“Did ye know, lad, tha’ Daddy once kept Papi in chastity for a whole week when he’d been terribly rude an’ naughty?”  
  
Juice could only mewl at it and Daddy chuckled, stroking a bit looser to tease him.  
  
“He could still have my cock, of course, but he wasn’t allowed to get off. Papi was very testing and Daddy’s spanking arm had gotten a lot of excersice, so Daddy got a wee bit tired an’ had to get creative.”  
  
He nibbled Juice’s ear.  
  
“Papi was so mad at me, and he loved every minute. I had him wear his tightest pants an’ the friction had him dripping so much it was almost obscene… Can ye picture tha’, laddie? Yer Papi walking around with his panties soaking wet all day, those shaved balls jus’ aching for release…?”  
  
Yes, he could. He could, all too well.  
  
“The last day before I rewarded him, I had him wear a huge plug all day along with the chastity belt, an’ in the evening, I sent him out to pick his own twigs. Then I had him make the rod, peel a big piece o’ ginger an’ as he bent over my lap, I replaced the plug with it.”  
  
Daddy’s hand was still teasingly light and Juice bit his lip to the vivid image the man painted. Daddy leaned into his ear again.  
  
“Yer Papi cried beautifully, lil’ one. I striped his arse good an’ he was screaming and sobbing his heart out, all the anger an’ pent-up emotions jus’ falling off… I could literally feel how relieved he was, how anxiously his body had needed jus’ _tha’_ from me, to let go. He cried an’ cried, lil’ one, but when I stopped an’ took the ginger out, he begged for forgiveness an’ I could see, sweet lad, tha’ he’d been so afraid of showing me wha’ he needed, he’d turned himself inwards, tryin’ to fight the battle all on his own.”  
  
Juice now moaned without really hearing himself, he just pictured Papi writhering over Daddy’s lap, ass glowing like an ample windfall and how the tears that streamed down his beautiful face were sticky but all the same cleansing. It was a vivid, hot picture and he clenched his cheeks around the shaft of that cock that wouldn’t fuck him in a long time yet, just needed to feel it, to have a small taste of what he’d had and would have again once he was well enough.  
  
He came in the rag, panting and mewling, shameless and free again, safely anchored in Daddy’s arms.


	40. Ronea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little trip into Papi's thoughts.

God, his husband was good. Ronea looked happily at the boxes with grilled salmon and couscous salad and he almost regretted their no alcohol in front of Juice policy, because that would go well with some white wine. He’d dried and put Juice in a fresh diaper, a pair of shorts and a tanktop before tucking him in on the sofa. The boy had been so pliant, calm and relaxed after the bath. A lot of that most certainly was due to the cleansing spanking and talking, but Filip hade gotten him off too and it seemed as if Juice had needed that just as much.    
  
It was, how ever, important that Juice didn’t feel like a child in sexual situations. None of them had _that_ specific kink and it wasn’t good for their baby boy to add any more confusion into his poor head, especially not now. Ronea didn’t even need to look at Filip to know the chat with Juicy had revealed some painful truths. He just knew and had their relationship been different, Ronea might have been worried about the fact that Filip hadn’t told him yet.   
  
But that was the thing with their marriage: it was very different in a lot of ways that had very little to do with spankings and strictly separated responsibilities when it came to work and chores. This kind of relationship didn’t work without trust and openness. Ronea didn’t have to wonder if Filip would tell him about the things Juice had told him, he _knew_ Filip just waited for the right moment.  
  
Of course, Juice was still quite clingy, which wasn’t suprising at all and definitely not wrong or unhealthy. Ronea knew all too well how men learned to hide and suppress “weakness” from a very early age.  
  
Stop crying. Get up. Brush it off. _Don’t be such a girl._  
  
As if girls were a disease and violence was the cure. Talk about weakness, when you were literally _taught_ not to handle your own heart and mind. Was there anything more toxic to both men and women than the learned behavior that men’s need for love and care, should be met with violence, scorn and suppression?  
  
Ronea and Filip both had learned it too, but found a way together to stop it in time. Their relationship had become their safe haven where they could live out and fulfill ther needs. It didn’t make any of them less of a man – seriously, people who thought that were absolutely pathetic – and Ronea remembered with fondness a party at the club, when Filip had asked a narrow-minded member from another charter if he’d like to have a ride on Ronea’s big cock before declaring him a woman based on his excellent brownies.  
  
Bobby, of course, had laughed out loud and Tig had patted the visiter’s back, offering some lube and advising on waiting another day or two before riding back to whatever place the idiot came from. Their club wasn’t a place for bigots of any kind and Tig sometimes joked that Bobby would vote for Filip to be ex-communicated if Ronea stopped making his brownies and almond cookies.  
  
Being a man, not to mention a white man, absolutely had it’s perks, but toxic masculinity definitely wasn’t one of them. As a homemaker, even men who were otherwise tolerant but didn’t know about the special brand of his and Filip’s marriage, would often assume Ronea to be more of a willing slave than a sub. There’d been more than one occasion where men had either treated Ronea like air or talked about him like he was a dog or a thing, while he was present.  
  
_How did you get him so well-trained?  
  
What a good boy he is, your little pet._  
  
Not that Filip or Ronea had any problems with people who had master/slave relationships, as long as everyone involved was happy and wasn’t trapped in any legal sense. To each their own and they were the last people to judge other people’s kinks, but Ronea didn’t get off on being humiliated and Filip didn’t get off on humiliating and their marriage most certainly wasn’t based on anything like it. Yes, they engaged in a lot of kinky sex and spanking was as regular in their weekly routine as food shopping and laundry, but none of them were into master/slave stuff.  
  
In a way, Ronea supposed their arrangement was more of a very customized version of an old-fashioned marriage, with the very important difference that Ronea had chosen to be obedient and that no actual law could force him to remain so, no matter what he’d promised by the altar. A hell of a difference, but the most significant part of their marriage, was that Ronea’s need for rules and boundaries, his need for pleasing and obeying, was the reason Filip had accepted to take charge.  
  
Filip’s need wasn’t to be obeyed per se, but to care and protect. Denying him that was like denying him food and drink. That need was as deep-seated as Ronea’s need for submission. It wasn’t perfect, no marriage was, but as Ronea watched his now partly greyhaired husband using one hand to dig into the salmon and the other to slowly pet Juice’s nape, he got a lump in his throat.  
  
Protecting and providing, guiding and listening were all ways that Filip Telford showed love. Sometimes, Ronea thought, the responsibilities his husband had willingly taken upon himself, were a bit too heavy for one man, even as strong as Filip, to carry. In some sense, Filip could get a bit of a tunnel vision when he was set to support Ronea – or Juice – a bit extra. In those moments, he needed Ronea more than ever, to remind _him_ of the boundaries and to lift the weight of the world from his shoulders.  
  
Ronea kissed Juice’s hair and gave his tired husband a smile before leaning a hand to stroke his scarred cheek. The dark, brown eyes were weary but warm and so was the smile. Once their little one was calmly asleep, Ronea and his husband would talk.


	41. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of cuddles for a fragile, weary boy, and even more reassuring words.

“Not tired, Daddy…”  
“Aye, laddie, ye are.”  
“Am not…”  
“Hey, be nice to yerself now, an’ listen to yer body for once, my stubborn boy.”  
“Juice’s body is lying, Daddy.”  
  
He’d barely finished the sentence before he yawned and Daddy chuckled.  
  
“Let me guess, tha’ was a lie too?”  
“Abso… lutely, Daddy.”  
  
Another yawn and now Juice had to fight his own smile, which was futile since Daddy nibbled his ear in a very tickling way, causing Juice to actually giggle. He felt good now, very heavy and still a bit like floating – the meds seemed to work well since he felt no pain or anxiety – and he knew he was kind of clingy but it didn’t make him feel stupid or ashamed. Daddy made a very light bite and Juice laughed.  
  
“Ticklish, Daddy! Stop…”  
”Filip, are you teasing my baby boy again?”  
  
Papi’s sassy voice came from the hallway and he had his hands on his hips in a very mama like manner. Daddy managed to look innocent, which of course didn’t fool Papi one bit.  
  
“Filip Telford…”  
“Aye, lovey?”  
“Did it occur to you that riling up our little one now might not be one of your brightest ideas?”  
“Uhm… well…”  
  
Daddy cleared his voice but Papi’s eyebrows were _very_ close to his hairline and Daddy’s fake innocence turned into teasing guilt.  
  
“Sorry, baby. I didn’t think.”  
”Fortunately, for both of you, I do and it’s high time for bed for a certain Juicyboy. Would you be so kind as to take him upstairs, love?”  
“Yes, ma’m.”  
“Oh, don’t you _yes mam_ me, Mr. Telford, unless you want haggis for dinner for a week.”  
  
Of course, that only had Daddy laughing and Juice couldn’t stop from giggling himself. Papi, how ever, just rolled his eyes and pointed at the stairs. Daddy smoothly lifted Juice and stopped by his mildly annoyed husband to press a kiss on his cheek.  
  
“Ye make a bottle, lovey?”  
“Of course. I want him in bed in ten minutes.”  
“Yes, ma’m… Sorry, I mean, yes, darlin’.”  
  
Papi glared but it looked so funny, it didn’t help one bit to stop Juice and Daddy from laughing more and Juice heard Papi slap Daddy’s ass when they went upstairs.  
  
“Daddy, Papi _spanked_ you!”  
“No, sweetheart, he gave me one of his patent ‘tired, sweet an’ snappish Ronea slaps’.”  
  
Daddy smiled at Juice as he kept walking to the bedroom.  
  
“If he dinnae give me one o’ those every once in a while when I’m teasin’ him, I’d have to assume someone kidnapped my real Ronea an’ put an imposter in his place. Daddy wants obedient husbands an’ lads, not subdued ones, lovey. An’ ye know how irritating he finds it when I call him ma’m.”  
  
Juice involuntarily yawned and leaned onto Daddy’s shoulder.  
  
“Sometimes… Juice doesn’t understand you an’ Papi, Daddy. But you’re still… the best.”  
  
Daddy hummed and walked into the bedroom, laying Juice down on the bed and kissing his forehead.  
  
“We don’ always understand ye either, Juicy, but we love ye just the same an’ we’re learning. Ye’re our lil’ treasure, sweet darlin’… A treasure tha’ needs to get changed an’ snuggle down pronto.”  
“Yes, Daddy.”  
“Good boy.”  
  
Daddy washed him quickly, put some lotion and a fresh diaper on, along with a clean tank top. Papi came up with a small plastic cup with meds and a bottle of something that turned out to be more warm fruit soup, this time made of cherry. Juice got snuggled down in bed and took the meds without fuss, knowing they’d help. Afterwards, he was placed in Papi’s lap to have the bottle.  
  
The way his Daddies so naturally showed _nurture_ of this kind, was baffling, really. They didn’t seem the least bothered, nor excited about it. It was like they just accepted facts and went with the flow, as soon as they’d decided what was needed. While Papi fed him, Daddy was reading aloud. _  
_    
“I woke before the morning, I was happy all the day, I never said an ugly word, but smiled and stuck to play. And now at last the sun is going down behind the wood, and I am very happy, for I know that I've been good…”  
  
Juice hadn’t heard that poem, but he liked it, liked the way Daddy’s voice sounded while reading it and how perfectly safe and cuddly it felt to lean onto Papi while listening.  
  
“My bed is waiting cool and fresh, with linen smooth and fair, and I must be off to sleepsin-by, and not forget my prayer. I know that, till to-morrow I shall see the sun arise, no ugly dream shall fright my mind, no ugly sight my eyes. But slumber hold me tightly till I waken in the dawn, and hear the thrushes singing in the lilacs round the lawn…”  
  
As sleepy as he was, Juice still wondered to himself if this was how normal people remembered their childhood. Being tucked into bed, hearing nursery rhymes and fairytales while being held and cuddled. As a child, Juice had only witnessed this from afar, peeking through the keyhole at fostermommys and fosterdaddys reading to their real children, their actual sons and daughters to whom such closeness and care was a birthright.  
  
The particular parents who demostratively closed the door, had always told Juice to brush his teeth and go to bed, then they’d come to check on him, sometimes given him a soft pat on the cheek if he’d been a good boy that day and bid him a good night. The nicest one had given him a small nightlamp to keep the nightmares away, but the mild glow from the lamp couldn’t replace hugs and kisses, goodnight stories or a pair of safe, loving arms to hold him when he woke up crying from nightmares no lamp could outshine.  
  
Juan Carlos had never been special, at best a tolerable inherent, at worst vermin. And even when he was too old to look for a mommy and daddy, the occasional partners or friends he made, wouldn’t be enough. Neither safe, nor caring enough for his needs. He finished the bottle and Papi kissed his hair.  
   
“Good boy, Juicy. Lets brush your teeth.”  
  
They _cared_ so much. Juice got tears in his eyes and couldn’t really point to a specific reason, but he kept them abay until he was done brushing his teeth and was laid down in Papi’s arms. He snuggled into his lover’s chest, sniffling.  
  
“How are you feeling, my sweet boy?”  
“T-tired, Papi. Been a… difficult day.”  
  
That was an understatement, but his Daddies understood. Now Daddy spooned him from the other side, having him safe and snug between them both and got kisses and cuddles. Juice sobbed again.  
  
“Sorry for being a brat earlier, Papi.”  
“Oh, sweetheart… That’s already forgiven and forgotten. C’mere, baby boy.”  
“No one’s angry with ye, lil’ one.”  
  
Daddy nuzzled his neck, placing kisses onto the fetlocks in his nape.  
  
“Daddy an’ Papi dinnae fully understand how much ye were hurting, lil’ one, but tha’s wha’ we’re here for, lovey. We’re both yer doms an’ this is no game for us. We _love ye_ , darlin’, no matter what state yer heart an’ mind are in at the moment. It’s both our wish to be here for ye, to give ye everything ye need to the best we’re capable of, because ye’re an irreplacable part of our lives, sweet lad.”  
  
Juice shivered a little, clutching Papi’s shirt, because it was so baffling to hear Daddy say these words. He’d said different versions of them before, but Juice’s mind was one of numbers and the pile made from words of rejection – and other kinds of hurt – had been built up for thirty years. Close to seven months of regular yet rare meetings with his lovers, stood no chance in comparison. Not yet.  
  
Daddy pulled him closer, practically burying his nose in the crook of Juice’s neck.  
  
“Ye’re not a burden, or a nuisance, my love. Papi an’ I have our own difficulties we’ve dealt a lot with over the years an’ believe me, there aint many things tha’ could scare us away from ye. Especially not anxiety, fear of rejection, loneliness or heartache. We’ve dealt with them all…”  
  
Juice still sniffled but felt a little bit better, not as frightened, and Papi hummed in his hair.  
  
“Seeing you struggle, baby boy, reminds Papi of himself, you know. I wasn’t prepared for how much Daddy would love me, especially not when I was at my lowest. I was in an awful state in the beginning, Juice, and I couldn’t understand why that stubborn Scot just didn’t abandon me. I thought I wasn’t worthy of kindness or happiness, not to mention love, so I got scared.”  
  
More kisses and Juice felt his lovers swirl their hands together, resting on his hip.  
  
“I hurt myself, sweetheart. Papi hated himself, thought he wasn’t worthy of anything good in life and I acted out so much… But Daddy stayed, Juicy. He saw something more than the weak, pathetic idiot I thought I was. No matter how little you think of yourself right now, we don’t see you as weak, pathetic or anything like it.”  
“We dinnae wannae put pressure on ye, Juicy. T’was so new to us as well an’ we dinnae feel the same thing with ye as with any of our occasional playmates in the past. I felt like an idiot when yer Papi asked me if I had a crush on ye…”  
  
He could feel Papi smile.  
  
“I could see if from miles away, baby boy. Your Daddy has never been good at hiding that kind of emotions from me. He was like a goddamn traffic light whenever we talked about you. You know, the first weeks after you’d brought me those lovely roses, I sometimes caught yer Daddy just standing by the couch, staring at it with that look he gets when he’s not sure about what he’s feeling, only that it’s not unpleasant. And I just knew.”  
“We talked about ye a great deal, Juicy. An’ since we dinnae know exactly what we, or ye, felt, only tha’ we both longed for ye an’… well, thought ye were bloody hot, of course, but tha’s a farcry from actually doing anything.”  
  
Warm hand, loosely petting his sore stomach.  
  
“Papi an’ I were so caught up in how to not scare ye off, an’ how to deal with our feelings for ye in terms of our marriage an’ respective roles, we dinnae really understand it came off as ye feeling like a… I donno… playmate. Jesus Christ, we’ve not engaged in anything physical at the club since we met ye, lovey. Wasn’t even a conscious decision, we just dinnae need others anymore.”  
“We realised we’d rather wait three weeks for a weekend with you, than play around with others, even if we could.”  
  
Papi bent Juice’s chin upwards to press a kiss on his lips. The hazel eyes were not teasing, just loving and gentle.  
  
“We need you just as much as you need us, baby boy. It may not feel that way, considering our different roles in this relationship, but trust me, the fact that I’m primarly submissive, doesn’t mean Daddy needs me any less than I need him. A dom without a sub is just a lost as a sub without a dom, sweetheart. You fulfill so much of _our_ needs, even if you perhaps don’t see that right now. The only reason we’ve not included you more in our lives, is because we didn’t want to smother you.”  
  
So much love. It was difficult to grasp, to understand. To accept. Juice couldn’t really answer, just cry, and the bad thoughts were, at least temporarily, silenced by the loving words.  
  
His Daddies loved him. They wanted him with them, in their lives, together with them and not just as a little treat on the side. Come tomorrow, Juice knew it wouldn’t magically feel all good and safe, that it would take time to trust and that he still felt unworthy of their love and care. But right now, his sore little heart and messy mind felt a lot less fragile and lonely. The thoughts and feelings weren’t as scary anymore, merely exhausting.  
  
It felt a lot like the cleansing feeling from a spanking. He was still sore, his diapered ass was definitely red but the feeling made him feel cared for, anchored in a way. Daddy’s and Papi’s words, the tears they elicited, were painful and extremely emotional too, but as with the spanking, they now left a good soreness.  
  
He felt far too tired to say anything himself and that was fine as well, he realised. Papi and Daddy didn’t wait for answers now, they merely wanted him to listen. Juice started to feel his eyes drop, as the tears started to decrease and the talking was replaced by low singing, as both his Daddies softly lulled his knackered body and mind to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem Ronea is reading is Robert Louis Stevenson's "A Good Boy".


	42. Filip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The love you're not prepared for and the magic hands of Filip Telford...

“Ye’re not agreeing with me on this, Ronea?”  
“No, Filip… Not that it matters.”  
  
Filip wasn’t surprised. Usually he would be, since his husband very rarely was upright defiant, but even if Ronea didn’t understand himself right now, Filip did. Or at least he should be, since it was his duty and one he’d committed to wholeheartedly. The backtalking probably was more of an _I don’t want a spanking_ , rather than an _it’s unfair to spank me_. Much like Juice, Filip’s husband was prone to hide his feelings whenever he felt like he was loosing control. A display of disobediance was one way he unknowingly showed it.  
  
Juice was sound asleep since half an hour or so and Filip had left his husband alone with the final kitchen duties to give him a chance to collect himself, retreating to the garage and his bike while waiting. Now, as he’d went back in and told about his decision for the evening, Ronea was already sipping on some wine and on the verge of a frazzle he, of course, refused to acknowledge.  
  
Well, that was Filip’s job, after all, to pick up where Ronea was too tired or confused to go on. Filip went up close to him, slow and calmly, and took the glass of wine from his husband’s hand to put back on the countertop.  
  
“Are ye sure we’re fit to argue right now, lovey?”  
“I don’t _need_ a spanking, Filip.”  
“An’ since when are ye making tha’ decision, Ronea?”  
“ _Fine._ Whatever _, sir._ ”  
  
Alright, now he was going rude for real and Filip would not tolerate that behavior from the man who’d willingly promised to obey him. He took Ronea’s hand and looked him firmly in the eye.  
  
“Livingroom, Ronea. Now.”  
“Yes, _sir_.”  
  
Still using a rude tone and Filip watched his husband walk away, obedient but very unwillingly. Filip sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. It wasn’t that he didn’t like spanking his husband and lover. It gave them both the absolute sense of care and protection and Filip loved providing that with loving correction, but holy _shite_ , these days it felt like he didn’t do much else than chastising his lads and it was getting tiring now.  
  
But, the rules were there to be followed and without the expected consequences, their dynamic would fall apart and as Flip retrieved the bundle of twigs that was standing in a bucket of water in his special cabinet, his husband was kneeling by the couch but still sighing in a way that was bratty. Ronea needed to be properly disciplined and reminded of their respecive roles immediately. Filip made sure he had a more stern face as he went to the couch and he sat down and took Ronea’s chin in his hand, not hard but firmly.  
  
“Is there any reason, apart from the fact tha’ ye don’ think ye deserve, or simply don’ want a spanking, why I shouldn’t let ye taste the rod right now, Ronea Telford-Tully?”  
  
Ronea was clenching his teeth and fists, clearly struggling with himself and it was difficult for Filip not to go all soft and hug him, let him off the hook, but that wasn’t their way, hadn’t been for twenty years and sure as hell wouldn’t change now. Ronea still looked defiant, but he shook his head.  
  
“No, sir.”  
  
Still a pretty hard voice, but he was tipping over to give up the fight now, at least. Filip nodded then and patted his lap.  
  
“Pull yer pants an’ panties down then, and bend over.”  
  
Once Ronea was in position, Filip started without further ministrations, spanking swift and hard to make it sting enough to prevent his husband from pulling himself together. As usual, it worked. Ronea’s tense shoulders started to relax, he was sobbing quietly, whimpers turning to actual tears as Filip kept reddening his beautiful arse.  
  
His poor husband needed this badly, Filip thought as he delivered the last strikes before laying the birch twigs away. Ronea was laying very pliant on his lap, crying softly into a pillow.  
  
“Thank you, Filip…”  
  
His heart would always melt from that voice… His Ronea, not afraid, tense or shut down anymore, but released from whatever it was that had caused him to riot against rules he actually wanted to obey. Filip stroke his hair and bent to place a kiss in the nape.  
  
“Ye’re welcome, darlin’. Feeling better, lovey?”  
“Yes, Filip. I’m sorry for being rude to you. I should know better and I’ll try my best to behave better.”  
“Thank ye, darlin’. I know ye will an’ of course ye’re forgiven. Ye need some lotion before we talk?”  
“No, thanks, I’m good, baby.”  
  
Ronea left his lap, adjusted his clothes and Filip handed him a tissue. Once Ronea had blown his nose and wiped the tears away, he sat down, seemingly unbothered by his sore skin and simply pulled Filip into a hug, sighing.  
  
“Miss _us time_ , Filip… Feel bad about it, ‘cause it’s no ones fault, but I just miss us.”  
“Oh, lovey, I miss us time too.”  
“I feel like a horrible person, you know, but I miss Tig and Venus… And Bobby. He’s probably lost weight these past weeks.”  
“Well _that_ would be tragic for someone with his beer gut an’ blood pressure.”  
  
He smiled and stroke Ronea’s hair. Finally his husband started to open up again.  
  
“Do ye long for Juice to become well enough to move out again, lovey?”  
“No! I mean, yes… I mean, of course I want him to feel good and healthy, Filip, but I don’t want him out of our house. Jesus Christ, husband, you think I’m getting tired of him?”  
  
Ronea sounded and looked positively offended and horrified and Filip quickly held a hand up to stop him from going on a completely unnecessary tirade.  
  
“Lovey, please, listen. I _know_ fully well ye’re not getting tired of him in any sense, but I know ye an’ ye’ve gotta put words on this, trial an’ error, remember? It’s _okay_ if ye’re not finding the right words immediately, Ronea. He’s not here, it’s just ye an’ me an’ ye don’ have to put up a brave face with me.”  
  
He took his husband’s hands in his own, just holding them and Ronea calmed down, knowing that he’d not be left alone with his thoughts and feelings. It was so important, Filip knew, to make sure his husband didn’t feel rushed or got the impression that Filip was impatient, didn’t have time or would punish him for his feelings. When it came to his husband, the only limits time set, were those measured in the years Filip had left on this Earth. He leaned their foreheads together, nudging Ronea gently.  
  
“Please, talk to me, darlin’. Think we need some us time right now, don’ ye agree?”  
“Yeah…”  
“Aye?”  
  
He nuzzled Ronea, pecked his lips and smiled.  
  
“Lets light some candles, pour us some Scotch an’ make a fire, like a really disgusting pair o’ domestic muppets, aye?”  
“Okay. Yeah, that… that sounds nice.”  
  
They didn’t use the fireplace very often, they lived in Cali for Christs’s sake, but it gave a pretty homey feeling and right now it was exactly what they both needed. Within minutes, Ronea already seemed better, sitting crosslegged by the fire, nursing his iced Scotch and foregoing his shirt to sit in his worn tanktop.  
  
Filip sat down behind him and started to rub his shoulders. As he’d expected, there was still tension and he carefully worked on the nots Ronea had collected over the past weeks. The man sighed and leaned his elbows onto the knees.  
  
“Hate it when he goes home, Filip…”  
  
_There._ Filip smiled to himself and kept kneading the sore muscles, not answering but leaving all the space for Ronea now.  
  
“Feel so guilty ‘bout it, you know. Like you’re not enough, because you are, but it just… I can’t help but worrying ‘bout him, Filip, and I dread the day when he’s fit to move back home. The thought of our baby boy all alone in that apartment…”  
  
A sigh when a knot released under Filip’s fingers.  
  
“Thing is, baby, I… as much as I’d never want it any different between _us_ , I just feel more… whole when he’s with us.”  
  
And so scared that Filip would interpret that as not being enough anymore… _Of course._ Filip almost wanted to cry when he realised what worries his husband had been carrying around. Lecturing him about it was out of the question, even if they did have a rule about not hiding important personal struggles from one another.  
  
Filip stopped kneading and just put his arms around his husband, pulling him into his chest.  
  
“Lovey, I understand ye better than ye might think. It’s a wonderful feeling, being able to care for someone like tha’. I know ye care for me, of course, but ye’ve never been a _complete_ sub, Ronea. I’ve seen ye struggle with yer control issues for more than twenty years now, darlin’, an’ it’s clear tha’ keeping yer pots an’ pans in order isn’t enough. Ye’re _versatile_ , Ronea, an’ a bloody perfect top for Juice. _Of course_ I understand tha’ I cannae fulfill tha’ need for ye.”  
  
He kissed Ronea’s nape, nuzzling for emphasis.  
  
”Juice was the love tha’ jus’ don’ happen. How are ye ever prepared for tha’?”


	43. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all have our nightmares.

“Daddy’s here, laddie… Hush, Juicyboy, we’re here…”  
  
The nightmare hadn’t been that bad and Juice didn’t remember it, only that he’d woken up alone in the large bed and screamed for Daddy. The man must’ve been upstairs too, because he was there in an instance and so was Papi, who came hurrying from the bathroom in his robe. Now Daddy held Juice in his arms and Papi closed around them while Daddy kept talking.  
  
“Ye had a bad dream, lil’ one?”  
“Y-yes, Daddy. Y-you were gone…”  
”Oh, lovey, we were just downstairs for a while, we dinnae leave ye.”  
“Baby boy, we were just about to come to bed with you. Nothing bad has happened, we’re not gone.”  
“We’d never leave our darlin’ Juicyboy, lil’ one. _Never_.”  
  
They kept cooing and shushing him like a baby but Juice didn’t mind. It felt so much better, being comforted and held like this. He wasn’t a baby and he didn’t want to be treated like one just like his lovers didn’t _want_ to do this, but it seemed to be the only thing that worked now. His mind was just too fucking exhausted and messy to respond to anything else at the moment. He sniffled into Daddy’s chest.  
  
“I don’t wanna be like this, Daddy…”  
”I know, Juicy, I know… We don’ like seeing ye like this either, lovey. We’d never have ye in nappies or make ye act like a wee baby on purpose, lad. Tha’s not a kink for either of us, remember? We’re gonnae do everything we can to help ye back to yer normal, adult self again, but in order to do tha’, the best thing to do is for ye to relax, darlin’.”  
  
Papi nuzzled his neck.  
  
“Remember what we talked about, baby boy. Lots of adults are forced to momentarily give up their independency due to illness or injury, physical or mental. Being as exhausted as you are now, sweetheart, is an illness and had it went on for a couple of more weeks, you’d been forced to go to hospital. We know diapers and bottles aren’t fun, but we hope it’s better than tubes and diapers in a hospital bed.”  
  
Juice clutched his robe.  
  
“Don’t take me to hospital, Papi!”  
”Shh, baby boy, shh… Of course we’re not taking you to hospital unless it’s absolutely necessary and as long as you keep taking your meds, eat as good as you are now and allow yourself to rest, you’ll be able to heal with us.”  
“Jus’ let us take care o’ ye, Juicy, an’ ye’ll get well again. Ye’re already getting better, lil’ one.”  
“You _deserve_ to rest and be cared for, my little love. Don’t be afraid, baby boy, we love you so much and we’ll never abandon you.”  
“No, never, laddie… Ye’re our sweet, beloved Juicyboy an’ we love ye to the bloody moon an’ back.”  
“And if you’d have to go to hospital, Papi will be by your side _all the time_ , baby boy.”  
“Lovey, ye cannae promise tha’…”  
“Oh, really? You have _any_ idea how good I am with bribing nurses, baby?”  
  
That made Juice smile a little, giving a weak, teary laughter. Papi kissed his crown.  
  
“You remember what the nightmare was about, baby boy?”  
  
Juice sniffled again.  
  
“Jus’… I was alone, Papi.”  
“That what scares you the most, sweetheart? Being alone?”  
“Yeah…”  
  
Daddy stroke his hair.  
  
“Ye were left alone a lot, weren’t ye, laddie?”  
“Uh-huh…”  
”My da used to do tha’, Juicy. Leavin’ me alone. He drank a lot, used to disappear for days an’ leaving everything to my ma. She worked nights for a period an’ my da was supposed to be home with me, but more often than not, he went out to drink with his friends an’ I had to go to bed alone. ‘Course, I had my ma even if she was at work, but I was jus’ a wee lad an’ I was so scared.”  
  
Daddy’s whiskers tickled against his skin.  
  
“Being left alone as a wee bairn leaves ye with scars, laddie. Worse ones than the nasty shite on my face. There’s no shame in having nightmares or needing someone to hold ye, no matter if ye’re an adult or a wee one. In this house, there’s room for all kinds of feelings, good an’ bad ones alike, Juicy. Take it from me an’ Papi, the best way o’ silence the nightmares, is to bring’em out in the light.”  
  
It felt better, it really did. The loving words, the warm arms, the gentleness of it all. But he still felt weak and was a bit shaky and shivery. Papi put a hand on his forehead.  
  
“You’re a bit warm, baby boy. I think we better check your temperature. You need to get changed too, sweetheart?”  
“No, thank you, Papi. I’m dry.”  
”Good. Filip, love, will you bring the thermomether, please? And warm up some more peach soup.”  
”Of course, darlin’.”  
  
Daddy kissed his crown again and left the bed. Juice didn’t really like the rectal thermomether, but he wasn’t interested in making a fuss right now. He let Papi turn him to his side, scoot the diaper down and slip the thermomether inside. Papi rubbed his buttocks.  
  
“You need some more lotion, baby boy?”  
”Don’ know, Papi.”  
  
He felt the man widen his cheeks a bit, clearly to inspect the skin around his hole.  
  
“You’re a little red, sweetheart. I’ll get you some aloe.”  
”Thank you, Papi.”  
  
The fact that his cock didn’t react at all, despite his humiliation kink, was quite telling. He wasn’t the least turned on by this, because for some reason he didn’t feel _that kind_ of humiliation. He felt weak and little, very vulnerable and a bit embarressed, but it didn’t send those signals.  
  
Papi hummed when the thermomether beeped.  
  
“You are a little feverish, baby boy. Not much, but still. It’ll be good to have something to drink now, I think. Oh, right, the aloe. Be right back, sweetheart.”  
  
Papi rubbed his cheeks with the soothing mixture and then took the usual syringe to give a shot in his still sore hole before readjusting the diaper. Daddy came back with the bottle and Papi kissed Juice’s hair again.  
  
“Baby, can you feed him, please? I need to wash up a bit.”  
“Of course, lovey. Juicyboy, c’mere.”  
  
Daddy held him steady and warm and Juice sucked on the bottle. He could hear the sounds of Papi doing his evening routine in the bathroom, removing his make-up, brush his teeth and hair, put some face cream on. Daddy was already in his pajama pants and tanktop and ready for bed. Juice hadn’t realised that before. Daddy was always quick with such things.  
  
Juice finished the whole bottle, mostly to make Daddy happy and because it felt so nice to lay in his arms like this. When it was empty, Daddy kissed his forehead.  
  
“Good boy, Juicy. _Good boy_.”  
  
He readjusted them so that Juice could lay down in the middle of the bed again. Daddy fluffed his pillow, turned it on the cool side and pulled him in close to his own warm body. Papi, who had his old, kneelong nightshirt on, turned the ligths out in the hallway and came in, smiling at them.  
  
“Snug as a bug in a rug. Is there any room for Papi, baby boy?”  
“Plenty, Papi.”  
  
Juice yawned now, feeling so much better and when Papi laid down, Juice snuggled into him by rubbing his nose onto his chest. Papi put the lights out and put an arm around them, so that Juice was safely tucked in the middle, cuddled between his lover’s warm, soft bodies.  
  
Papi’s worn nightshirt was an old rag, increadibly softened from years of use and many washes. The grey- and black striped fabrics reminded of an old-fashioned worker’s blouse and it was a button missing that made it slip and reveal his collar-bone. Juice nuzzled it, feeling his Papi’s strong heartbeats against his face. Papi kissed his crown again and then Jucie felt him swirl hands with Daddy over his body.  
  
“Sweet dreams, baby boy. Sweet dreams, old man.”  
“Goodnight, lovey. Goodnight, lil’ one.”  
  
Juice yawned and snuggled down with a pleased sigh.  
  
”Night, Papi. Night, Daddy.”  
  
Only moments later, he was out like a candle.


	44. Ronea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronea is a dork when he's alone in his beloved kitchen.

”Sorry that I could never love you back. I could never care enough in these last days… Heal her soul, carry her, my angel, Ohio…”  
  
Ronea hummed along with the stereo in the kitchen. He had woken up earlier than usual this morning, feeling a bit restless and he’d left the bed as carefully as possible, whispering in his husband’s ear that he was getting up. Filip murmured something and tucked Juice in closer. The boy was sleeping soundly and didn’t seem to notice his Papi left.  
  
Usually, Ronea dressed before he made breakfast in the week, but today he found himself remain in the nightshirt and with his hair in a mess, singing a bit to himself as he padded around his beloved kitchen with an early cup of coffee in his hand and the stereo on a low volume. He didn’t miss Ohio, really, although he and Filip had went on vaccation there a few times, but Ronea liked this song, melancholy though as it was.  
  
What he _did_ miss, was his normal mornings. After the talk with Filip, Ronea no longer felt guilty about it, now as they’d stated it wasn’t the same as not wanting Juice around. Last night had ended so well, with all three of them sharing hard stuff but in a safe way that made Juice feel less lonely. It was exhausting, but worth it a hundred times over.  
  
Maybe that’s what had caused Ronea to wake up feeling this lighthearted and more alert than he’d felt since before he caught the flu. He practically danced around his kitchen, crossing over the last day on the calender and looking at the schedule he knew by heart but still felt good seeing. It was a Thursday, which meant gardening and seeing friends. Ronea was a bit of an introvert by nature and actually enjoyed being on his own a lot of the time, but it could get out of hand too, which was why Filip had given him the rule of leaving the house once a day – or bring someone there.  
  
Ronea had formed out the routine by making Monday his errends day, Tuesday gym day and on Wednesdays, when he had his baking and laundry day, he’d usually take a walk and meet Venus for coffee in the afternoon. Venus was a transgender woman who didn’t want the full surgery and she lived a happy life with Tig, who was one of the members at the MC club and a close friend of Filip’s. A real Southern belle, she was, and coffee dates with her were always nice. They’d chatter about, gossip and solve the world’s problems for a couple of hours before it was time for Ronea to start dinner and that was more than enough of socializing for him.  
  
Thursdays he actually had “seeing friends” as a part of his ”duties”, even if Ronea didn’t like viewing his friend’s that way. He did have a bit of a problem with leaving the house sometimes though, and it was important to keep the socializing routine up, or he’d far too easily slip back into his old way of hiding from people. Leaving the house and seeing friends on his own was crucial for his well-being, Filip had declared, and he was right.  
  
Apart from Venus and Tig, Bobby had become one of the friends Ronea liked the most. He was ten years older than Filip, with long, curly grey hair and beard, as well as a mighty belly that indeed was partly built from Ronea’s famous brownies. Tig had sometimes jokingly accused Ronea of favouring Bobby just because he was from Ohio too and it was only a pinch of truth to that.  
  
Their childhood resident state – or the famous brownies – had although little to do with why Ronea was so fond of the biker. Bobby had actually been the one who, back in the days when the marriage with Filip was still new and the scars from Aaron still sore, would pull Ronea out of his shell, one tiny piece at the time. Brownies had a role in that, sure, but only because it made it easier for Ronea to socialize if he had something to do in the meantime. Baking brownies, especially since Bobby was absolutely crazy for them had, simply put, broken the ice.  
  
Ronea missed him, but maybe next week they could pick up again… Oh, well. Ronea heard his husband’s alarm sound from upstairs and automatically turned to the fridge to start with the breakfast: fruit salad, soft-boiled eggs and mixed, roasted nuts. Apart from the coffee, this was a meal Juice could eat without any adjustments, which was good. While chopping fresh pineapple, banana, pears and peaches, Ronea kept an ear towards the stairs, listening to sounds that meant he was needed, but it seemed as if Filip had it all under control.  
  
Juice, of course, couldn’t have coffee yet, and Ronea made him some warm almond milk chocolate instead. It wasn’t terribly nutritious with the amount of sugar, but the boy liked something warm to drink in the mornings and the beverage would be nice to his stomach.  
  
A little while later, Filip came down and to Ronea’s surprise, Juice too.  
  
“Baby boy, you’re up?”  
“Yes, Papi.”  
  
Filip must’ve seen the frown because he went over to Ronea and kissed him.   
  
“Good morning, lovey. No fever an’ he said he wanted to sit up for a while.”  
“Oh. Of course he can, baby.”  
  
His husband had deemed him fit, so Ronea would go with that and he gave his baby boy a kiss too. Juice of course had his diaper on under the sweats. Ronea had even allowed himself some room for less tidy dressing at the breakfast table since Juice's illness, which was something pretty much unheard of during the week.  
  
“Daddy changed you, baby boy?”  
“Yes, Papi.”  
“Good. You’d like some warm cocoa, sweetheart?”  
”Yes, please, Papi.”  
  
Juice walked very slow but he managed to move around by himself and didn’t even frown when he sat down on his usual spot. He bit his lip and looked at Filip.  
  
“Daddy?”  
“Aye, lovey?”  
”I… I know it’s bad manners, but can I put my knees up?”  
“Why?”  
  
The boy grimazed.  
  
“Balance, Daddy. Sorta.”  
  
Ronea calmly put the eggs in cold water to cool down and looked at Juice.  
  
“Need to keep yourself grounded today, baby boy?”  
  
The worried look disappeared and Juice looked relieved, nodding.  
  
“Yes, please, Papi. Daddy, if it’s alright.”  
  
Self-comforting by pressing knees to the his chest. Well, sometimes comfort had to come before manners. Filip only had to exchange a look with Ronea.  
  
“Tha’s alright, lovey. Whatever ye need to sit steady, Juicyboy.”  
“Thank you, Daddy.”  
  
So polite. Ronea almost got a lump in his throat from the way his young lover behaved himself, despite pain and weariness. But more important, Juice had managed to ask if his otherwise unacceptable way of sitting at the table was okay, meaning he’d asked for help instead of hiding how tired he was and that deserved a reward.  
  
When Ronea served the bowls with fruit salad, the small plates with eggs and cups of roasted nuts, he pulled Juice into one of what his husband and baby boy would refer to as patent Papi hugs. He wanted to give his young lover a proper cuddle, reassure him time and again how precious he was and Juice melted into it like a little pup. He needed the physical contact very much right now and Ronea knew it was silly, but he felt like he was abandoning Juice by sitting down at his own spot.  
  
Juice took a nut with stiff moves as Ronea served coffee to his husband and himself. It went really slow for his baby boy, but he tried. He took the spoon to get himself some of the fruit salad, but his muscles seemed out of coordination because he couldn’t get it right and after four tries he sighed and put the spoon down. Filip looked up from his coffee.  
  
“Ye want some help, Juicyboy?”  
“Yes, please, Daddy.”  
  
He sighed, defeated by his own weariness but clearly accepting his limitations. Right now he couldn’t maintain a steady position and move a spoon at the same time and he closed his arms around his legs to get up straighter. When Filip took the spoon and fed him, there was no frown on Juice’s face, just calm. Acceptance, trust.  
  
Their baby boy had slept peacefully through the night once Ronea and Filip had spooned him and he didn’t look quite as exhausted now. Tired and fragile, absolutely, but he seemed a bit more alert, a little less like a ragdoll and more like a pup or kitten learning to walk and sit steadily.    
  
“How about you come with me outside today, baby boy?”  
“Okay, Papi.”  
  
Juice didn’t sound convinced and Ronea smiled at him.  
  
“Thursdays are my gardering days, Juice, and I was thinking you could get some fresh air while keeping me company.”  
“Guess that… would be good, Papi.”  
  
A bleak smile. Filip patted Juice’s cheek.  
  
”Maybe ye could sit up a wee bit more now, aye? Perhaps help Papi with his herbal pots? Would tha’ work, Ronea?”  
  
The frame with herbals was standing on the backporch and usually Ronea prefered for them not to be touched by anyone save for himself, but under supervision it would be good for Juice to have something like that to focus on.  
  
“It’s time to reap some thyme and basil. You could help me cut and tie them for drying, baby boy. If you’d like to, of course.”  
“I… I could try, Papi. Don’ know anything about herbs, though.”  
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll show you.”  
“Okay, Papi.”  
  
Practical work, a clear task with limited stress. Yes, that would absolutely be good for a sore heart and mind in a temporarily weak body who was used to dive into computors and bikes to keep occupied. And later, Ronea thought as he watched his baby boy accept more help from Filip to finish his breakfast, Juice needed a lot of praise for opening up about his nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the song Ronea's listening to and singing along with while cooking "Carry Me, Ohio": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AKRA7weVyLs 
> 
> Since both Marilyn Manson and Mark Boone Jr are from Ohio, I decided that Ronea and Bobby would be from there as well :)


	45. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarragon plants, worries, talking and memories...

”Papi?”  
”Yes, sweetheart?”  
”Don’t you ever get bored of… you know… being at home all day?”  
  
His lover looked up from the herbal pot and laughed. The sun was very warm today and Papi wore an old cap and shades to protect himself from the light. The contrast between the pots, earthy hands and his old Terror On Elms Street t-shirt was almost comical, because if you didn’t know him, you’d think he was completely misplaced.  
  
“Bored? How could I get bored, baby boy? I have far too much to do to get bored.”  
”You’re _never_ bored, Papi? Honestly?”  
”Of course I get bored _sometimes_ , but no more than your Daddy gets bored of his job. You’re saying you don’t wish yourself miles away from your computor sometimes?”  
“That’s… not the same, Papi.”  
“Oh, really? How so?”  
”Well… You’re alone all day, aren’t you, Papi?”  
”Alone, yes. Lonely, no. Can you hand me the prune, baby boy?”  
  
Juice took the tool and reached it over.  
  
”Thank you, sweetheart. You’ve been with us a little more now, and you know I’ve been a homemaker for about fifteen years.”  
“Uh-huh.”  
“Well, I’m not exactly a desperate housewife who’s husband is some kind of fancy lawyer, leaving me with his credit card to buy happiness while he’s working overtime.”  
  
Papi pruned one of the tarragon plants with skilled moves and cut off some, handing it to Juice.  
  
“Will you tie a bouquet of this, baby boy? There’s some string right next to you.”  
“Yes, Papi.”  
“You see, Juice, this isn’t some kind of hobby for me. It’s recreational, yes, but it takes a lot of work too. I grow herbs, tomatos, onions, blackberries, peppers, broccoli, beans and lots of other things. It’s part of my contribution to the household, to keep the costs down.”  
“S’an important work, Papi.”  
  
Papi smiled.  
  
“I’m glad you’re seeing that, baby boy. I’d never be able to stand just roaming around, sipping coffee and just do some minimal household stuff during the day. I mean, don’t take me wrong, I’m absolutely not a workaholic in any way and my lazy afternoon coffee is sacred, but I want to contribute.”  
“Maybe t’is good that Daddy’s a mechanic then and not a stockbroker or something.”  
  
Now Papi laughed again.  
  
“You mean it’s nice to be needed and not just some powerless whimp, depending on my husband’s mercy?”  
  
Juice swallowed, feeling himself blush.  
  
“I… I didn’t mean to…”  
”Sorry, baby boy, I shouldn’t tease you right now.”  
  
Papi left his pot and planted a kiss on Juice’s lips.  
  
“Papi’s being silly, sweetheart, I know _more_ than well you’re not thinking of me like that. And I guess it’s not very common for most people to grow a garden quite like this.”  
  
Juice shrugged.  
  
“When I lived with people who had gardens, they only grew flowers and hedges.”  
“Ah, yes, that’s probably what’s most common. You ever helped out?”  
“Yeah. Used to move the lawn and trim hedges.”   
”You liked it?”  
  
Early Saturday mornings before breakfast. Do the chores well or there’d be no breakfast. Finish in time or the lunch would go too.  
  
Forgetting to wipe your feet properly or wash off the dirt under the nails and the back of a hand would show up.  
  
Not sounding meek enough when apologising and you’d get the belt. Meals cut in less than half for the rest of the weekend.  
  
“Juice?”  
  
Papi smelled from new soil and sunshine. His arms were warm and soft, protecting.  
  
“Did Papi trigger a bad memory, baby boy?”  
  
Nod. Juice couldn’t find his voice, he just buried his face into the crook of Papi’s neck. The man held him close, nuzzling him.  
  
“It’s alright, baby boy. Nothing to be afraid of, you’re not alone with this, sweet darling. You wanna tell Papi about that bad memory or just cuddle a bit?”  
“Jus’… cuddle, please, Papi?”  
“Okay, my little love. C’mere.”  
  
This, being weak and needy, had become something tolerable in the last weeks. Not just being ill and having an uncooperative body, but to need physical and mental support pretty much all the time. Papi and Daddy never showed a hint of irritation or weariness due to that. Their arms were always open for Juice to curl up into, for any reason, no matter if Juice felt ridiculous or undeserving. Cuddles, as Papi had pointed out more than once, weren’t something to be earned or deprived here. They were a constant offer.  
  
Papi’s rolled up sleeves revealed the ink and many scars in the sharp sunlight and Juice instinctively brushed over them, before realising what he was doing and pulled his hand back.  
  
“You can touch them, baby boy.”  
  
Papi’s voice was so calm, a stark contrast to the anxiety that once had made him hurt himself.  
  
“They don’t hurt me anymore, Juice. _I’m_ not hurting myself anymore.”  
  
Juice curled closer into Papi’s neck and the man hummed, stroking his back.  
  
“You now, I could say that love will heal you, but it would be a lie, Juicy. There’s no magic button to press on, no specific healing time, no fucking guarantees in this life and we both know that. Healing really deep wounds, is a fucking ascent. You climb and climb, get exhausted and it hurts, you slide down a bit and has to lie down to rest before you make another try… But with the right tools, baby boy, and the right person giving you a hand, or a pair of arms, it can happen.”  
  
Juice made a small sob.  
  
“Wasn’t supposed to be like this, Papi. You and Daddy and I… T’was supposed to be… a game.”  
“Yeah, well… Problem is, I don’t think any of us were any good at playing games, sweetheart. If that had been enough, we wouldn’t sit here.”  
  
Papi nuzzled him and pressed a little kiss on his nape.  
  
“Without Daddy looking after me and making the final decisions, I’m weak too, Juicy. I literally can’t handle being on my own, I feel miserable working outside the home and I make the most fucked up decisions when I’m left to the mercy of my own mind. And your Daddy… well, he’s simply hopeless in a relationship if he’s not in charge.”  
“Hopeless, Papi?”  
“We tried for a long time, being a more normal couple, but we both got miserable. I was acting out all the time and Daddy was constantly suppressing his need for control. It’s a wonder we ever made it… Think of it, sweetheart. Two people who both are trying to fight back their natural urges and personalities, because they’re so afraid and ashamed of them.”  
“Wha’ were you ashamed of, Papi?”  
“When I got away from Aaron, my ex, I thought I’d feel free and happy. My friends back then thought I needed to regain my independence and they were absolutely right, but they thought that meant getting rid of my submissive side. They told me, when I met Daddy, that I was making the same mistake again, that I only wanted a dom because I’d been so controlled and abused by Aaron. That I’d developed an unhealthy view on relationships.”  
“But… Daddy isn’t abusive.”  
“No, but unfortunately, my so called friends didn’t hang around long enough to discover that, baby boy. They’d already made up their minds and thought I was letting myself and them down. When I, for the first time in years, made a decision purely out of what I wanted and needed, I was told it was the wrong one and that it was unacceptable.”  
“What a bunch of assholes.”  
“Yeah. I could appreciate their concern, but it really hurt and also made Daddy unsure of whether he was good enough for me or not. So, he used his role as my top, to make me go to therapy. He loved me so much, he didn’t wanna risk the wrong kind of submission and although I was furious at the time, I already loved him so much I was willing to try.”  
  
Papi brushed his lips over Juice’s hair.  
  
“It saved my life, baby boy. Didn’t understand it while I was in the midst of it, but as time went on, I slowly became stronger. Took a long time before I stopped cutting myself completely and your Daddy was so increadibly patient and sweet when it did happen. Instead of getting angry or afraid, he had me talk about it and good Lord, I don’t think I’ve ever cried as much as I did during those fourteen months…”  
“It took… fourteen months for you to stop cutting yourself, Papi?”  
“Completely, yes. It decreased little by little for every month, but I was so mixed up in myself to really notice the progress. Daddy kept track, though.”  
  
Papi made a small laugh.  
  
“Damn, I hated his ability to keep track on my progress. You know, it’s _really_ difficult to keep hating yourself for things you’ve not done, when you live with someone who literally writes down when you slip off the road. When I yelled at him that I fucked up and ruined my arms all the time, your Daddy would just look in his goddamn calendar and tell me exactly how wrong I was, by the day. _‘Ye’re wrong, lovey. Last time ye cut yerself up, was May 21th an’ tha’s four months an’ five days ago. How’s a quarter of a year ‘ all the time’, muppet?’_ ”  
  
Juice laughed too. Papi imitating Daddy’s most reasonable voice was funny.  
  
“It’s hard to fool Daddy, Papi.”  
“Yes, baby boy, and I think that’s why I feel so good obeying him. He’s not gonna let me hurt myself in secret and I’m not forced to carry that burden on my own. I don’t have to be strong all the time with him.”  
  
Now Juice swallowed and held on tighter, listening to Papi’s heartbeats as the man talked.  
  
“Boys and men… We’re taught to be in control, Juice. To control ourselves all the time and often others as well. None of us, you, me or Daddy, were brought up believing we had the right to seek comfort, because boys and men don’t need that. We just need sex and a partner who does our bidding, right? A steady job, steak for dinner, a strong drink or two and a wild night out with the guys… God forbid we’d engage in cuddles and domesticity for any other reason than to please a mother, girlfriend or wife.”  
  
Papi kissed his crown.  
  
“Daddy and I have a very sparse contact with our families and we lost a lot of friends because of what was seen as weakness, but as corny as it sounds, we’re only getting happier. The society has it’s fixed idea of how to deal with relationship and family trauma and I’m sure it’s good for most people, but in my case it simply didn’t work. I wasn’t forced to be a sub. I was a natural sub who was abused and what Aaron did to me, doesn’t change who I am.”  
“What if I’m not… a natural sub, Papi…”  
  
Juice bit his lip, because this was a subject that was very scary.  
  
“What if… What if I change…?”  
“Everyone changes, sweetheart. That’s just life.”  
”Yeah, but… I don’t… If I’m not a sub, then I can’t be your boy anymore, Papi.”  
”Oh, Juicy, that’s what you’re so worried about? You think we’d not still love you if we get to know more sides of you? You’re afraid we’re not prepared for the possibility of changed feelings, changed circumstances and development in our relationship with you?”  
  
How could the man find the words so easy? Papi made it sound so simple, as if he didn’t have to search for or sort out his thoughts at all. Juice could only nod, feeling like he’d break if he actually formed another sentence. Papi rocked him in his arms.  
  
“My sweet, sweet boy… You think we don’t need you just as much as you need us, do you? That just because you’re our sub, you’re powerless and we call the shots? Love doesn’t work that way, Juice. We need you too, just as much, only in a different way. If you’d leave us, we’d be heartbroken, because Daddy’s and my marriage can’t replace our relationship with you. It’s not the same thing and you’re not a playmate or casual lover to us. You’re our beloved partner and I think the shock of those feelings made all of us retreat. Am I right, baby boy?”  
  
Juice swallowed again.  
  
”I… I’m in love with you, Papi. Both of you. I’m not jealous of you two being together without me, but I don’t think I could handle if you… If… If you…”  
“Take your time, baby boy. I know it’s scary, but I wont be angry or disappointed with you for feeling things, Juicy.”  
  
Papi kept petting him and it was calming enough for Juice to try again.  
  
“You’re poly, right?”  
“Yes, baby boy.”  
“What if… what if you find someone else? Or if… if you want me to… see others…”  
“Oh, good Lord… Sweet Jesus, Juicy, you think we’d…? God, we’re so stupid…”  
  
Papi looked both horrified and incredulous and Juice wanted to make it go away, so he stroke the man’s hair.  
  
“Don’t… don’t be sad, Papi. S’alright.”  
”No, sweetheart, it’s not alright. It’s _not_ alright that you’ve walked around thinking of yourself as nothing more than our weekend fun, just because we were too worried about scaring you off with how we felt for you. We should’ve told you about our past way earlier, instead of walking on eggshells.”  
  
Juice gave a weak laughter now.  
  
“Am I a complete fuck-up for not wanting to be your equal, ever? Like… like in a normal relationship.”  
“If I said so, it would be the pot calling the cattle black, baby boy.”  
  
Papi smiled at him, placing a kiss on Juice’s nose.  
  
“Now it’s not the time to think too much about the future, love, but trust me, you wont facing it alone unless you absolutely _want_ to. And even if I can’t claim to know your inner thoughts and wishes, I still don’t think that’s what you want, Juice Ortiz.”  
  
The use of his surname made Juice startle a little, but then it hit him. Papi stepped out of their roles to reassure even the parts of Juice who weren’t his baby boy, that this wasn’t a game. It wasn’t a part of the deal they’d made for having weekend fun with each other. It was a versatile man who fully reckognised and understood the needs of his submissive partner, because he either had, or used to have, those kinds of feelings himself.  
  
“Please, Papi… Jus’ hold me…”  
   
He already did, but now Juice put his own arms around his lover’s neck, turning so that he could swirls his legs around the man’s waiste. They sat on the backporch floorboards in a tangled hug where you, if you looked without knowing them, couldn’t tell which one was the comforter and which one was being comforted. Just two men with hands earthy from potted plants, holding on to each other in the still too sharp sunlight.


	46. Filip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filip takes a trip to the hated mall ;)

His young lover, his lil’ one had been extremely good today and Filip felt light as a feather despite his extra belly pounds, as he left work. When Ronea called, Filip had almost been tempted not to pick up because it had been a shitty day at the shop with too many whiny customers and the last thing he needed was bad news from home. His husband had cried in the phone, yes, but out of happiness and relief, not because of a bad day. The conversation had been good for a number of reasons.  
  
Filip straddled his bike, smiling to himself, as he steered towards the hated mall. Juice had opened up for real, not just about his personal struggles that had to do with shitty self-esteem, but issues with his view on their relationship. At first, Filip had been horrified from what Ronea told him, immedately starting to curse himself until his reasonable husband told him sharply to get his shit together. Filip loved when Ronea showed that side. It wasn’t about controlling, domineering or even rudeness, but his husband’s blunt and very efficiant way of quickly reminding Filip that the privilegue of being in charge of two other people, came with a lot of responsibility, one of them being the ability to not lash out.  
  
Hearing that his wee lad had felt so afraid, still not fully understanding that their relationship wasn’t some sort of recreational activity, was heartbreaking. That Juice thought he wouldn’t be loved or wanted if he needed different things in different times of his life. It wasn’t just about fear of being alone, but the fear that lied in having little to no concept of self-worth.  
  
Filip gritted his teeth, parked outside the mall and put his earplugs in. The store he was heading at wasn’t one he usually visited and it felt weirdly formal as he entered the almost empty place and spoke to the owner about his errend.  
  
While waiting for him to be done, Filip looked over the various chains and holders in every colour of the rainbow, glittery, simple metal, leather and plastic, shapes of bears and dogs and shiny balls all over the stands. Most of them looked like something a little girl or a gangstawannabe teen would carry around and Filip didn’t want to humiliate or even joke a little with his young lover. When he, after having frowned at roses, teddies, ugly ass guns and painfully embarressing “my sweetheart” holders, he finally found something.  
  
The small shamrock was maybe a little too visible with it’s green colour, but it was discrete, common and wouldn’t raise questions, while it also wore a simple but still pretty sweet signification of their secret little trinity.   
  
Symbols were important to his lad. Probably way more than for Ronea or himself. Filip sighed as he waited for the key. Not giving Juice a key hadn’t been a decision, they’d simply not thought about it since it was a given that either of them were at home if Juice came by. They both trusted their skittish lover and Filip wanted to whack himself for not thinking of this earlier. Juice was their partner, for Christ’s sake, and should be treated as such. Sure, it was a risk, but which relationship wasn’t? Filip trusted his own and Ronea’s judgement when it came to Juice and there’d not been any hesitation about the decision, only frustration with their own lack of thinking about it at all.  
  
This was a serious lack of communication from both of them and they’d have to be punished for that, but not in the way Filip usually disciplined Ronea, partly because it was out of the question for Ronea to spank his husband and partly because Filip didn’t respond well to such things at all. It was also important that since they were both at fault here, their chastisement should be the same for both of them. Or at least equal in measure. To not pick up that their lover still felt so insecure with them in time, was not acceptable. They should both know better.  
  
Filip believed in fair and proportionate consequences, adjusted to fit the fault as well as the person who should be disciplined. By stepping back too much out of fear of being intrusive, Filip and Ronea had left their boy alone to deal with a pain that could’ve had a very ugly outcome. If Juice thought that they’d stop loving him if he wasn’t adjusting himself to fit all their needs, or that they’d bring another man into their relationship, to make up for his imagined “shortcomings” as their lover, that meant Filip and Ronea had lacked in opening up about _their_ feelings, while having Juice going through an emotional purgatory.  
  
When the shop keeper was done and Filip had paid for the key and holder, he hurried away to his bike. It was time to get home to his lads.


	47. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some heart to heart with Daddy, but some things are harder to speak of, than Juice thought... Oh, and TW for mentions of childhood trauma.

Daddy was very lenient today. Juice had no troubles laying still over his lap and take the all but symbolic spanking with the whisk. He didn’t even cry which was weird, but maybe Daddy didn’t want him to cry today. The afternoon had been spent in Papi’s arms, or close to him in one way or another, because the man seemed as reluctant of letting Juice go, as Juice felt about leaving. He’d been babied, yes, but after the talking they’d had, he felt too fragile and worried to be even an arm’s lenght away from Papi.  
  
When Daddy came home, he’d seemed a bit different, but still very safe and protecting. He’d changed Juice’s diaper and then taken him to sit on his lap for a while, just rocking him in his strong arms before telling him to pull his diaper down and bend over. He delivered a dozen slaps, solid but not even close to full forced, before pulling Juice’s diaper up to cuddle him.  
  
“Atta boy, Juicy. Good lad…”  
“Sorry, Daddy.”  
“Lovey, ye know this wasn’t tha’ kinda spanking, right?”  
“I know, Daddy.”  
“Then why are ye appologizing, laddie?”  
“Guess it… just happened, Daddy.”  
“Now ye sound like I did when I was a wee lad, trying to explain to my maw why I got dirt up to my sleeves when it wasn’t even muddy outside.”  
“She’d spank you too, Daddy?”  
  
Daddy sighed.  
  
“No, lil’ one. My da usually did tha’, but he used his belt. Or his old pewter.”  
”Pewter?”  
”A hip flask of sheet metal where he thought he could hide the whiskey we all knew he drank too much of. He wasn’t a _complete_ arsehole, but on his bad days, both me an’ maw went to bed with bruises. Unfortunately for us, he still had a good aim while plastered.”  
“That’s awful, Daddy. You were his son…”  
”Aye, ye should never hit yer spouse an definitely not a wee child. No matter if it’s yer own or not.”  
”One of my foster dads used a razor strop. Was a military, retired, but you know… I had a mohawk when I went there and when I didn’t wanna let’im shave it off with his trimmer, he took the strop to my ass and then used his razor knife to shave me. Squirmed too much, so I bled from my scalp.”  
“Jesus _Christ_ , Juicy. Tha’s… I don’ even…”  
  
Daddy sounded horrified and angry and Juice automatically put his hands around the man’s face to comfort him.  
  
“S’alright, Daddy. Was a long time a ago, p-please, don’t be angry.”  
“Oh, laddie, ye cannae force me not to be angry with tha’ bastard, or any other bastard who hurt one o’ my lads.”  
  
He pulled Juice back into his arms again, stroking his shoulders.  
  
“Daddy gets angry at the bastards, lil’ one, _not_ at his Juicyboy.”  
“But… It’s not worth it, Daddy. They’re n-not here and I’m f-fine.”  
”Sweet darlin’, tha’s where ye’re going wrong. Thinking o’ yerself the way ye do, as if ye’re not important to me an’ Papi, or to yerself, is a very clear sign ye’re _not_ fine. Ye have eating problems, ye’ve been shutting yerself down an’ not felt tha’ we love ye an’ care about ye.”  
  
Daddy’s embrace was strong, protective and a thought popped up in Juice’s head.  
  
“You held Papi like this when… when you got together, Daddy?”  
“Everytime he allowed me to, lovey.”  
  
It was difficult picturing Papi not wanting cuddles from Daddy.  
  
“Sometimes, lil’ one, I could spend up to four or five hours jus’ waiting for him to allow me near.”  
“Why, Daddy?”  
“Because he was so afraid. Of me, of himself, of his ex. Ye remember when I touched him in a bad place?”  
“Uh-huh. He freaked out, right, Daddy?”  
”Aye. Ye dinnae see it, which I’m glad for. Not because I’m ashamed of Papi or wannae hide his wounds from ye, but because it can be scary to experience, especially when ye’re as vulnerable as ye were then. Ye understand wha’ I mean, Juicy?”  
“Yes, Daddy. Was probably good I didn’t see it. Would’ve gone scared an’ Papi would’ve felt worse too.”  
  
Daddy kissed his hair.  
  
”Ye’re giving yerself far too little credit for yer ability to understand an’ accept others, Juicy. I don’ think I’ve ever met a person less judgemental about other people’s difficulties than ye, an’ yet ye’re completely unforgiving when it comes to yerself.”  
“Not completely, Daddy.”  
“Well, maybe tha’ was a bit exaggerated, but when my lil’ one rather punishes himself for feeling lonely, than jus’ giving me a call an’ expect me to be there for’im even when we’re not having scheduled time, it means we’re having a rather big problem.”  
“I’m s-sorry, Daddy.”  
“Shh, lil’ one. Please, don’ apologize, Juicy. Ye’ve not done anything wrong an’ when I point out a problem _we_ have, it doesn’t mean _ye’re_ the problem. If I think ye’ve done something wrong, what do I do first, lovey?”  
“You… you talk to me to f-find out what ha-happened, Daddy.”  
  
He stuttered now, couldn’t help it, but Daddy just cuddled him.  
  
“Aye, lovey, tha’s right. Because in this house, we’re not scolding or spanking before we know there’s a reason for it. Doesn’t mean we’re infallible, but we’re striving to be fair. We’re only humans, all three of us, an’ there’s always room for mistakes, corrections an’ most of all forgiveness, because noone’s perfect. I showed tha’ the time I spanked ye for yer eating problems, which was very unfair an’ uncontrolled of me. Yer forgiveness meant the world to me, lad, ‘cause I knew I’d done ye wrong.”  
“Wasn’t angry at you, Daddy.”  
“No, ye weren’t, Juicy, an’ tha’s the problem. Ye’re so afraid of being left alone, ye’re willing to accept an’ forgive almost anything, to _do_ anything in order to belong. Where does _yer_ heart an’ mind, _yer_ needs an’ wishes, fit in all this?”  
  
Juice couldn’t answer, because he was crying. But being listened to, in this house sometimes meant you didn’t have to form actual words. You could cry, or even be silent and Daddy and Papi would still listen.  
  
“I spank ye because ye’ve asked me to, Juice. The same thing with yer Papi. I’d never lay a hand on either o’ ye if ye dinnae have the need. An’ that need _must_ come from clear consent, lovey, not fear. Believe it or not, but I actually refused to spank Papi for a long time in the beginning of our relationship.”  
“You made him go to therapy, Daddy.”  
“Aye, lil’ one. I did. He was so young… _We_ were young, but Papi was only 21. Jus’ think about it, lovey. Ten years younger than ye’re now. Who was Juice Ortiz at that age?”  
“A more or less successful hacker.”  
”Aye, but besides work and trade, lad. Who were ye when ye shut yer computor down?”  
“A biker?”  
“Besides tha’.”  
“Uhm… Donno what to say, Daddy. Bikes and computors are pretty much all I’ve done.”  
”Who did a 21 years old Juice Ortiz hang out with? Did he have a partner? Boyfriend? Girlfriend? Lover? Friends? Where did he live?”  
  
By himself. Always himself. Some people in the foster care system who never got adopted, found their sense of belonging within themselves. Others in a group or with a partner who also had wounds to lick. Others spread for the wind, like dust and leaves, ending up wherever, no clear direction at all and never in the same pile of leaves long enough to make connections.     
  
He’d never stopped trying, that was his biggest weakness. Searching for a place, for someone, _anyone_ to want him to stay. Accepting a bar of chocolate with immense gratitude from a woman who’d starved him for two days. Eagerly exhausting himself in a big garden for a scrap of approval. Crouching and obeying only to be called smooth. Defy and act tough and simply get a beating. Crying was a thing for the darkness and only if you really had to. The best thing was to get tough. No one liked a cry-baby.  
  
“How old were ye, Juice?”  
  
Daddy spoke so softly, as if Juice could shatter from the sound. Juice swallowed.  
  
“When, Daddy?”  
”When ye got raped.”


	48. Ronea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The daddies have an emotional moment of their own.

”Was it wrong of me, Ronea?”  
”I don’t know, baby.”  
  
Filip was pale and he leaned his elbows heavily on his knees, sitting on the bed. Ronea wanted to tell him that he’d done right, because in theory he had, but lying to his husband was unthinkable. The panic attack had been horrible to watch. Juice locked up in a tight bundle of terror and Filip practically shouting for Ronea to come and help.  
  
The only help any of them had been able to give, was chemical and it was a fucking miracle Juice hadn’t bit their fingers off when taking the benzo. For twenty gruesome minutes they’d waited for the meds to set in before it was possible to touch Juice again. He’d went out eventually and Filip had carried him to a mattress Ronea had prepared by the fireplace. Now their baby boy was laying there, tucked in blankets and with a fire going to make sure he kept warm.  
  
A small sob had Ronea turn to his husband again, putting his arms around him and the damm broke.  
  
“I… _completely_ overstepped, Ronea. Mary, Mother o’ Christ, wha’ have I done…”  
“Shh, baby, I’ve got you. Just have a good cry, Filip, I’m here.”  
“I fucked up… I fucked up so badly…”  
”No, you didn’t.”  
”Don’ ye fucking defend me, Ronea. I know when I’ve been a right bastard.”  
”Oh, so we’re back to swearing at each other, huh? Well, _fuck_ your self-loathing then, Filip Telford, and don’t even think of putting that on my list of transgressions, you dumb fuck.”  
“ _Ronea!”_  
  
His husband looked at him with such surprise, Ronea almost wanted to laugh, but there really wasn’t anything comical about the situation and he grabbed Filip’s shoulders, looking right at him.  
  
“You remember our rules, Filip Telford? Because I sure as hell do and you were the one insisting on the one allowing me to speak my mind at _all times_ , and to tell you when you fuck up because, to use your words here, if you’re not acting like the head of the household, you’re not to be treated as such. I know you feel guilty, but when you’re self-loathing, I can’t exactly spank your sorry ass, can I? What is it you’re always telling me, husband? You can be angry, sad, disappointed and even right furious, but _not_ disrespectful. Do I have to remind you about the rules _you’ve_ agreed to abide to as well, huh?”  
  
Don’t swear at your husband. Don’t be domineering, don’t shut him out when he wants to help. Don’t deny him the right to listen to and forgive you when you’ve fucked up.  
  
Ronea hated when his husband fell down that hole and snapping him back was his first priority. If they couldn’t talk properly because one of them was stuck in a self-loathing loop, it didn’t matter how respectful and polite the other one was, because it didn’t reach through.  
  
He let go of Filip’s shirt and sank down to sit on the floor. It wasn’t a sign of submission or regret for lashing out, not really, and Ronea laid his head to rest onto Filip’s thigh. He could hear his husband sigh, probably rubbing his face and then he felt the hand on his hair.  
  
“Thank ye, lovey.”  
“Sorry I was disrespectful. I really didn’t want to.”  
”I know an’ ye did right, Ronea. Aye, ye were disrespectful, but no more than I. I shut ye off, cursed at ye an’ wasn’t listening, so I really dinnae give ye any choice.”  
“Could’ve stormed out crying, but that’s not really my thing.”  
“Thank God it’s not. Jus’ to be clear, this isn’t going on yer list of transgressions, lovey.”  
“I know, baby, but it’s good to be reminded. Now, can we talk about our baby boy as the responsible fuckers we both know we are?”  
“Aye.”  
“Good. I’ll make us a cup of tea. We should sit outside, but I don’t wanna have the door closed in case Juice has a nightmare or something.”  
“Sounds like a good idea, darlin’.”  
  
Ronea rose to give his husband a proper hug. Filip was his top, yes, but he could be weak and need support too and Ronea was more than strong enough to give it. They didn’t function without each other, that was the simple truth that had kept their marriage steady and loving for so long.  
  
When they’d made it to the backporch with their tea, Filip lit them both a joint. They rarely indulged these days, but Juice was quite heavily sedated now and they both needed to settle. They sat by the wall, sipping tea and sharing the joint in silence for a moment. After a while, Filip pulled Ronea to lean onto his shoulder.  
  
“Had the key made.”  
“Yeah?”  
”With a green shamrock holder.”  
”A green shamrock, huh?”  
”Aye… He told me that… he never had a key of his own before he moved out. An’ even then it was just a motel room.”  
“Oh, God…”  
“An’ I thought my da was a bastard.”  
“He threw you and your mother out in the snow one Christmas, so yeah, he was a bastard.”  
“He did, but maw knew where the spare key was hidden.”  
“She was a good woman.”  
“Aye, she was. Bless her memory.”  
“She would’ve loved Juice, you know.”  
“Aye… Not so sure ‘bout how much she’d loved her son fucking him though.”  
“Trivialities, baby. Trivialities. My mother would’ve kidnapped and force fed him with stuffed chicken, mash and bread pudding, probably having him develope bulimia.”  
   
Filip sucked on the joint and stroke Ronea’s hair.  
  
“Will ye ever admit to me tha’ ye miss her, lovey?”  
“You know the answer to that: Ask me again in twenty years.”  
“Tha’s wha’ ye said twenty years ago.”  
“I know.”  
  
He sighed.  
  
“She would’ve loved you both. All she ever wanted was for me and dad to be happy… And she accepted me for who I was, even when dad couldn’t. We were lucky like that, you and me. We both had good mothers if not so good fathers. Juice had neither.”  
  
The evening was a little chilly for once and Ronea tucked his old, knitted cardigan tighter around him.  
  
“He deserves to be happy, Filip.”  
  
Filip put his joint out and pulled Ronea close again, sighing in his hair.  
  
“Aye, he does. Question is, do we make him happy?”


	49. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment of unintentional, sleepy eaves-dropping.

There were soft music playing, the sound of papers turning, fire cracking and a scent that had become equal to what Juice would think of as home. It bore traces of laundry and cleaning soap, of strong coffee, baked bread, dried herbs and furniture made from recycled material. It mixed with motor oil and tobacco, weed and absinth, scotch and homemade raspberry cordial. Of boot polish, gasoline and small lavender bags on shelves with mangled linen sheets. It had him half-awake.  
  
He didn’t have to open his eyes to know Papi and Daddy were close. Chinking told him Papi was knitting, the crisp sound was Daddy turning pages in his book and another was his cup of tea being lifted from the dish.  
  
“Ye look cold, lovey.”  
“Oh? Don’t feel cold, though.”  
”Ye’re rubbing yer hands.”  
  
There was a smile in Daddy’s low voice and Juice heard him put the book down.  
  
“I’ll get yer cardigan.”  
”Thanks, hon. You want more tea?”  
”Aye, please.”  
  
They were so polite. The affectionate petnames, the please:s and thank you:s.  The way they made it their most important task in life to care for each other. Kindness in every little detail. Juice listened to tea being poured into Daddy’s cup, to Papi putting the pot back on the table mat. He felt the slightly cold and very gentle hands tuck the blanket a little closer around him and then Daddy’s footsteps made the old floorboards crack a little.  
  
“Here ye go, darlin’.”  
“Thank you.”  
  
A small kiss, the old, grey cardigan making the air move slightly as Papi put it on before picking his knitting up again.  
  
“What are ye working on?”  
“A beanie for Juice.”  
“Does he need one?”  
“Don’t know, but I’ve finished the embroidery and I need something for my hands.”  
“An’ ye need to make something for him.”  
“Yes.”  
  
Papi’s voice was soft and quiet.  
  
”Doesn’t matter if he wont use it, I just… feel better doing it. If he doesn’t like it, I can just scrape it and make something else. What are you reading?”  
“ _A Feast For Crows_.”  
“Oh, you’ve caught up?”  
”I’ve only just started.”  
”You still don’t wanna know how _A Dance With Dragon_ ends?”  
“Ye wouldn’t dare.”  
“Oh, I would. I’m only far too nice to actually do it.”  
”Aye, I’m married to a pure saint.”  
  
Papi chuckled, apparantly earning one of Daddy’s _Christ, my husband’s a bloody muppet_ glares. It felt safe, hearing his lovers talk when they didn’t know he was listening. Maybe it was eaves-dropping, but Juice didn’t really feel like he was doing that. He wasn’t interested in anything else than simply hearing them talk to each other. Basking in the feeling of not being left out or having a closed door between himself and their comfort.  
  
The wind was getting a little stronger outside, rattled in the shutters and made the windows creak.  
  
“Lovey, will ye take a look at the shutters sometime this week?”  
“Yeah. I was planning on it for next week, but there’s a loose one on the back and I better fix it before it decides to take a flight.”  
“If ye’re busy, I can do it.”  
  
Papi snorted.  
  
“Only if you let me take care of your little miss Dyna.”  
“In yer dreams, darlin’.”  
“Then stay off my window shutters, or I’ll spoil _A Dance With Dragons_ for you.”  
“Tha’s extortion.”  
“Uhm… yeah, now that you mention it, I guess it is.”  
  
Kisses. Juice felt sleepish again, slowly falling back to sleep, little by little, still listening to his Daddie’s voices.  
  
“Wanna make love, darlin’? Not a quickie, but…”  
”Juice’ll wake up.”  
”I mean when he’s in bed. If ye wannae, of course.”  
  
The sigh was a pleased one, Juice could feel Papi smiling and instead of making him worried or jealous or left out, the love he was eaves-dropping on, made him feel happy. He was safe here, because his lovers were safe with each other. Because they poured each other’s tea cups, fetched cardigans and checked to see that he wasn’t cold while sleeping.  
  
Undisturbed of the previous tensions of the day, Juice pulled the scent of his Papi into his nose and fell asleep again.


	50. Filip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly Filip's perspective, but also a glimpse back into the past where there'll be some from Ronea's perspective as well.

Before Ronea… in a way it seemed strange to even think of a time before him, before them, but to be honest, the twentyfive years old Filip hadn’t been that experienced at the time he met the man who’d become the love of his life. He’d had lovers, even a couple of relationships, but being experienced with sex wasn’t necessarily the same as experienced coping with emotions. Filip sighed against his husband’s neck, trying to will the memory away…  
  
_Lodi, 24 years earlier_  
  
**Filip**  
His lover, no partner – or was it too bloody early to think of him like that? – was smiling beneath him, the pale, perfect body moving on the bed, causing the sheet to wrinkle. Filip had never been the domestic type, but he had some fucking sense of courtesy and therefor both changed to clean sheets, vaccumed and scrubbed the bathroom before their, for lack of a better word, date.  
  
Filip couldn’t cook and, of course, realised that too late to order something. His spaghetti Napoli was barely edible but Ronea had finished it without a hint of how bland it was. Luckily, the scotch and expensive ice cream made up for it and Filip tried not to think of how his mates would tease him if they knew. Ronea had loved it, that was the important thing, and now he was in his bed. Literally. It wasn’t until now that Filip realised they’d actually not seen each other fully naked.  
  
Ronea was laying back on the thin mattress, shirtless and still in his black pants and tanktop, but he didn’t seem nervous. For fucks sake, he wasn’t a virgin in any sence and Filip had actually ridden his cock only a couple of weeks ago. Due to busy schedules, they’d not had time for more than coffees and quick blowjobs since then and all Filip had really been able to think of at dinner, was if there’d be a chance for reversed roles later on. He’d not counted on it, figured it would show and perhaps make Ronea uncomfortable, but halfway through the ice cream, the skittish man had put his spoon down and decided to turn things up a notch or two.  
  
“You’re staring at me, baby…”  
”Difficult not to…”  
  
He blushed, the teasing smile and glittering eyes seemed to cut right through him, digging underneath Filip’s layers without even trying. Still, there were cuts and bruises yet covered, protected by the fabrics and Filip didn’t want the smile to go away. He bent down to catch the grin in a kiss, slowly straddling the man, encouraging him to remove Filip’s top. The hands were a bit cold, left goosebumps on his skin and it felt so strange, being this careful with a man. Not that Filip were ever one to be unnecessarily rough, but the guys he’d been with, hadn’t been the slow burn types, to say the least.  
  
But this man, this Ronea… He felt so fragile, his touches not nervous but strained, as if he was afraid to let himself go. Still suspicious, still aware and Filip couldn’t blame him. They’d not mentioned what Filip had realised about that bastard ex. That he’d raped Ronea, even if the man himself seemed extremely unwilling to use that word for it – or any word, for that matter.  
  
Fragile, strong, skittish, curious. Bloody irresistable. Peeling their clothes off took time and Filip had to take the first step, make himself vulnerable before Ronea was ready to let his guard down. When Filip tugged at the tanktop, the man closed his eyes, face slightly tense and Filip stopped.  
  
“Look at me. Please…?”  
  
Asking. Pleading. Using a soft voice. The beautiful yet frightened and sad eyes opened up and Filip cradled his face.  
  
“Ye’re beautiful, lovey.”  
”Don’t have to pretend, Filip.”  
”I don’t. I really fucking _don’t_ , lovey.”  
  
He kissed Ronea’s forehead, his cheeks, his nosetip and lips.  
  
“Cannae go on unless I know wha’ I’m doing, Ronea. ‘M not trying to, ye know, inspect ye or stare, but… If we’re gonnae do anything, ye gotta let me see wha’ I’m doing.”  
  
Ronea swallowed, pressed his lips hard together and took a deep breath.  
  
“It aint hurting… that much. I’m just… Well, I’m not that nice to look at right now.”  
“Ye are to me.”  
  
He stroke the soft hair.  
  
“If ye don’ wannae do it, then we’re stopping an’ we can wait until ye’re alright with… ye know, show yerself to me, but I cannae do more now without seeing, ’cause I’d just worry ’bout hurting ye. Aint prepared to risk tha’.”  
  
The man still looked worried, but he didn’t tense further and the fear seemed to fade a bit. The breathing was calm, gaze not flatting and slowly, very slowly, his body relaxed a little again. Ronea closed his eyes, licking his lips nervously.  
  
“Can’t look at you when… not while undressing. Okay?”  
”An’ afterwards?”  
”I… I wont promise, but… just go slow, please?”  
”Of course. Ye know, if ye want me to stop, jus’ say so, no matter wha’, okay?”  
“Okay. It wont be a pretty sight so… I’ve warned you. Please don’t… freak out.”  
“Promise.”  
  
Small steps. Small movements. The torso was bruised. Cut. Burned and whipped. Not very recent marks, no, but not old enough. Filip didn’t freak out, he was an E.R. worker, for fucks sake, and he’d been warned. He had to prove he could handle this and not make Ronea’s wounds about himself.  
  
The tanktop came off, Ronea still wouldn’t open his eyes and Filip dipped down to rest his mouth onto the collarbone, kissing it all the way up to the dimple below the neck. He didn’t linger anywhere, didn’t pay special attention to either whole nor scarred spots, hoping it would somehow make a difference. Keep the shame and worry to a minimum.  
  
He could feel tentative hands moving, resting on his thighs, not touching yet, just feeling and almost agonizingly slow, spreading shaky fingers out to hold his hips, dig into his arse and Filip hummed softly into Ronea’s jaw, nibbling alongside it down to the chin. A small squeal had him stop and Ronea had an apologetic smile on his face.  
  
“Sorry, I’m a bit ticklish.”  
“Jus’ there, or…?”  
“Guess you have to try and see for yourself.”  
  
A smirk now. It was difficult to know if it was out of real confidence or just a way of covering up fear, but Filip was pretty sure it would ruin the mood if he started to ask questions or in any other way bring up the soreness Ronea so clearly had and just wanted to forget about. Instead of talking, Filip gave him a teasing grin of his own, dipping down again to lick a stripe down to the earlobe, eliciting a real giggle from the man.  
  
“Hey, I showered earlier, I promise!”  
“Aye? What a gentleman…”  
”Pure and tidy.”  
  
That had Filip laugh, remembering how he’d complimented Ronea by the lake and the man laughed too. They needed it, it seemed. Some fucking release that sex couldn’t give right now and Filip kept nibbling, kept tasting the skin all the way down to the bellybutton. Ronea was squirming in a way that suggested he liked it, but Filip stayed outside the pants, just nuzzling the zipper and button.  
  
The black pants were tight, fitting snugly over Ronea’s hips and the bulge. A shiny trim just above the button had Filip hesitate and he folded the pants a bit, almost choking at the sight and Ronea smirked.  
  
“See anything you like, Scotsman?”  
“Bloody hell, Ronea…”  
”What? You thought I’d be wearing Walmart briefs?”  
”Where did ye find these?”  
  
He was honestly bewildered and Ronea laughed now, wiggling a little to show off the boxer panties in black silk.  
  
“You don’t have to be a woman to buy women’s underwear, you know.”  
“I… Fuck, I know shite ‘bout this…”  
  
He must’ve sounded shocked, because Ronea put a hand on his arm.  
  
“Relax, I’m not a cross dresser, baby. I just like silky panties. Do you?”  
”Uhm… ”  
  
Filip couldn’t tell if he’d seen a man that actually looked good in panties, but this… His mouth went dry, he blushed and nodded.  
  
“I like’em plenty, darlin’…”  
“Well, then I guess I better keep them on. Pity, I was looking forward to… Hey!”  
  
Filip interrupted him by pinching his nipple, not hard, and Ronea laughed again, shoving his hand away and pressed his hips upwards, rubbing like a cat in way that had them both moan. Ronea still kept his eyes closed and Filip put the man’s hands onto his own belt. With skilled, nimble moves, the skittish man opened the buckle, the button and fly, tugging at the fabrics and white cotton boxers that next to the silky panties made Filip feel like a bloody hick.  
  
“Ye dinnae wear these last time…”  
“Didn’t want to scare you off too early.”  
   
As if that would happen. Having this man in bed was a wet fucking dream coming to life and Filip scooted down to pull Ronea’s pants and socks off, while taking the opportunity to remove his own. His hair fell in Ronea’s face as Filip settled to just lay down and hold him. He wanted to feel as much as possible of him, of this man who some asshole had dared to treat like shite and Filip had to take a moment just to calm all the emotions stirring up inside him.  
  
Had it been any other man, Filip knew they’d been halfway done by now, but this wasn’t any other man and it was as if he automatically knew that and his body too. He kissed and nibbled everywhere he could reach, not touching below the hips until Ronea took his hand and practically shoved it down the panties.  
  
“Jesus Christ…”  
  
Smooth, everything was so fucking smooth and Ronea’s chuckle over Filip’s surprise ended in a deep groan as Filip took his balls and rolled them in his palm.  
  
“Oh, fuck… Yeah, that’s nice… Keep… keep doing that, baby…”  
  
It was as if he was marking territory. I was probably wrong to feel that way. Claiming this gorgeous, incredible fucking man as his own, with his consent of course, but Filip couldn’t help but feeling a little guilty for the sense of power Ronea made him feel, by the way he seemed to just… give himself over.  
  
The signs of violence and abuse, of mistreatment and betrayal of trust were many and Filip wanted to erase every single one of them, bodily and mentally, a wish about as impossible as it was stupid. The past was the past and there was nothing Filip or anyone else could do about it now, except for not repeating the vicious act.    
  
**Ronea**  
It had been a long time since anyone went down on him, he couldn’t even recall the last time it happened. It sure as hell hadn’t been with Aaron, because he didn’t even suck dick. He fucked and got sucked, end of story and the sweetest moment Ronea had had with the asshole, was when he’d fucked him missionary style, kissing and cradling him. It had only happened once.  
  
The way Filip seemed to not just tolerate or accept his body, but even like what he saw, not wavering off from bruises or scars – or didn’t care – was new. He didn’t avoid them or pretended they didn’t exist, neither did he treat them like glass, ready to shatter if he grabbed firm enough. He saw them, felt them, but didn’t make any comments. His hands didn’t rush, didn’t hesitate, just discovered, one inch at the time and it made Ronea dizzy.  
  
Filip’s mouth wasn’t mechanically trying to get him off. The wet heat was willing and deliberate, taking him deep enough there was a slight sound of gagging and Ronea let go of the sheet to tangle his fingers in the dark hair. Filip held onto his hips, slipped under them and Ronea gasped a little as the hands found his lower back, almost massaging just above his ass and it felt fucking amazing. The pace was almost too slow, tongue swirling around him and he had to force himself not to thrust. Filip had reached out to take Ronea’s hand, swirling fingers as he kept sucking and started to massage Ronea’s balls in his free palm again.  
  
Not looking wasn’t a choice. He wanted to, hated that he felt so self-conscious and at the same time, by keeping his eyes shut putting himself at risk. He liked Filip a lot. If he didn’t know any better, Ronea would say he’d even fallen in love with the Scotsman, but that would be crazy this early on, right? But the way he touched, almost reverent, how he so obviously _liked_ doing this, spoke clear in it’s own way. And at the same time, Filip was a rough biker, manly to the fucking teeth and still looked like a lost boy when seeing the silky panties. Only, unlike so many other men of all orientations Ronea had met, being it friends, one night stands, acquaintances, relatives, co-workers or a dancing and drinking crowd at the bar, he wasn’t threatened by a challenge. And he wasn’t ashamed.  
  
Ronea felt himself coming closer, the way Filip moaned around him sent vibes deep down in his belly and he couldn’t keep still anymore, moving his hips while trying not to thrust. Filip was touching his belly now, fingers travelling across his hipbones, his bellybutton, his thighs. When he slid up to suck on the glans, Ronea was panting and keeping still was fucking impossible. He felt Filip chuckle and let go of his cock.  
  
“Ye’re close, lovey?”  
“Yes… fuck, yes, I’m gonna…”  
  
Filip dipped down again and the tickling feeling was building, creeping up from every fucking piece of Ronea’s healing body, the pressure from his groin was wiping out any sense of fear or shame and he was literally shaking, biting into the bend of his arm, toes curling, fingers digging everywhere they could reach when his balls pulled up and the world shattered.  
  
When he finally was able to move again, to look, two brown eyes were looking at him, a hand softly stroking a strain of sweaty hair from his face.  
  
“Earth to Ronea…”  
  
Filip was smiling and Ronea felt himself blush. He felt hoarse and tried to clear his throat only to cough.  
  
”I’ll get ye some water, baby.”  
  
Ronea couldn’t answer, only nod, and he felt like he’d lost every ounce of strenght. And from a fucking blowjob… Jesus Christ. His still hard lover returned with a cup of water and Ronea gulped it down, realising Filip hadn’t gotten off and he blushed.  
  
“Did I pass out on you?”  
  
Still hoarse, but at least he could talk. Filip took the cup.  
  
“Only for a moment.”  
“God, I’m sorry…”  
”Why? Never actually made anyone shout loud enough to disturb the neighbors before.”  
  
Now he grinned.  
  
”Don’ be sorry, it’s a bloody compliment. Unless ye’re some pro at faking.”  
  
Ronea let out an exhausted laughter.  
  
“Yeah right… Jesus, that was fucking incredible.”  
  
He searched for Filip’s body, any part of it, just wanted to be close, to touch. His lover was still hard, hadn’t gotten off and Ronea sighed.  
  
“Just let me catch my breath, baby… If I move now, I’m gonna fall like a ragdoll and I didn’t plan on passing out on you.”  
“No rush, lovey...”  
  
Filip pulled the cover over them, had Ronea lay on his arm and just held him close. Ronea’s breathing was still fast and he bent into Filip’s chest, feeling the strong arms around him, the slow pets on his hair and back. There was absolutely no fucking rush.  
  
***  
  
_Present day_  
  
Before Ronea… Yes, of course there was a before, but Filip could no longer remember much of significance from it. Other lovers and partners seemed so far away they could’ve belonged to another life, another world. His husband was tight around his whole body, melting into him in their kneeling lotus, taking him deep in a slow grind. They weren’t young and lithe anymore, joints were cracking and muscles occasionally protesting, but it was more than twenty years since Filip had signed up on the class of learning how to love and hold his husband.  
  
He knew the sounds and twitches by heart, could trace any sign of discomfort no matter how small. Loving Ronea was feeling with his entire body, was being alert while giving in. It was the taste of salt and musk, the sharp tugs and the silky heat squeezing him to the last drop. Protection, possession, tumbling over and falling apart. Yes, it was rough and fast, hickeys and pounding. It was sweat and cum, mixed fluids and scents that went from sweet to disgusting, because the human body was no fucking flower. It was glands, wrinkles, dirt and funny noises. Loosing control was never aestethic, only raw beauty you couldn’t fully appreciate without knowing your own as well as your lover’s body.    
  
Filip was pressed into his husband’s chest, rubbing the sweat there in his face, grasping his shoulders almost too hard as Ronea rode him into oblivion, squeezed like a tight, velvetsoft glove and released him from every last drop of self-control.


	51. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Been a little occupied with "responsible adult stuff" for a while, but here's an update, finally :) It takes place shortly after last chapter, later that same night. TW: mentions of past rape.

Another nightmare. Juice whimpered into Daddy’s chest, shuddering from the images. Holding onto Daddy helped, so did hearing his voice.  
  
“S’alright, Juicy, s’alright, lil’ one. Daddy’s here, Papi’s here, no one can hurt ye, laddie.”  
  
Being held, comforted. No one had done that like his Daddies. None of his foster parents, or boyfriends. Certainly no friends. Growing up in the system meant learning not to get attached. Computors were good that way. They didn’t demand obedience or hated you, they simply didn’t work if you handled them incorrectly and when you found out the right thing to do, there was no need for making amends, no turned backs or grudge. You could control them without being a controlling asshole with people.  
  
He felt Papi hold him too, he was protected from all sides and neither man tried to make him talk yet. Juice knew that being little by choice in every way was a thing for some people and he was the last person to judge. This, however, didn’t really feel like a choice but more like a need that should’ve been satisfied a long, long time ago but never was. Juice had never turned tough like the guys he’d hung out with before his skills with computors and a middle school in desperate need of a teacher’s assistant saved him from a life as a thug.  
  
The school principle had taken a chance with him even if he really didn’t have a criminal record, just an endless line of mismatched foster homes behind him, and Juice knew that had it not been for her giving him that chance, he’d probably ended up in a gang of some sort. Yes, he’d found a place workwise, he’d used his skills and developed well before moving on to tech companies and even, strangely as it was, made somewhat of a name for himself in the local business. Juice was grateful every day for principle Alva Lee, who’d seen something more than another deadbeat idiot with odd jobs and poor grades behind him. And the nerds liked him.  
  
The students were mixed in every sence, but to Juice’s surprise, most of them liked him. He’d made an effort, not to get close, but to learn their names. To keep track of their progress and to encourage them, boys and girls alike. The salary wasn’t that good, but money mattered less than a place where he was needed and accepted. Even a bit liked.  
  
It lasted only for a year, with budget cuts coming lots of teacher’s assistents, not just Juice, had to go and for once it didn’t feel like an abandonment. Principle Lee gave really good recommendations, the first official acknowledgement of his skills and when a newly opened tech store needed staff, she even gave them a call on his behalf.  
  
Customers were in a way easier than students, in another way harder, and it took time to build up a persona Juice felt comfortable with. He’d not really liked the job, but it was a job and he was grateful. He had his own little apartment, spent lots of free time at the gym and even went to gay clubs. A few hook-ups, nothing serious, and maybe that was just as good, because Juice had no fucking idea what to say to people, especially not hot men. Coke, he discovered, helped, that night when he was offered some from a man who’s face he couldn’t remember.  
  
He’d been 22 and hopelessly in love with anyone that would kiss and caress, not just sucking or fucking him. Like a kicked puppy who wouldn’t learn and therefor never knew his limits.  
  
He didn’t remember much, not even the man’s name, only that he’d been surprisingly strong and that the coke felt different. He remembered dull pain, heated breaths and the scrape of brickwall against his hipbones. He remembered the smell of the man’s perfume and his rancid breath. He remembered how he’d buckled and fallen to the ground, listening to the steps of his rapist hurrying away, along with whatever scrape of trust the tech skills had built up after eighteen years in the foster system.  
  
He was still just a punk with a mind running wild and now he still had that nightmare of being left alone, being it in the gutter, a dark closet in a foster home, a lonely hospital bed recovering after having been found by strangers at the brickwall, or his own bed at the place that was supposed to be home, but never felt like it. The only place where he felt safe, was here, in his Daddie’s home with their loving arms around him. And he was just a guest.  
  
“Sweet darling… Juicy, my little love, don’t shut us out, please? We need you with us, baby boy.”  
  
We need you. _We_ need you. We need _you._  
  
”We’re not ye, lil’ one, but we understand a lil’ bit o’ yer pain. I’ve held Papi so many times when he thought I’d leave him, or worse, haven’t I, lovey?”  
“He has, baby boy. Daddy’s been my rock for more than twenty years, sweetheart, and I’ve wreaked havoc far more times, and in so much worse ways than you, I hardly dare to think of. And Daddy stayed with me, sweet boy, even when I did my best to push him away, when I tried to make myself impossible to love.”  
“He failed miserably, laddie, an’ I’m so grateful for tha’. We can help ye, Juicy, I’m sure of it. Ye have but to allow us.”  
  
Words. Juice had learned not to take too many of them to heart. At least not the nice ones. Only those that couldn’t be ripped away later on. It was so much harder to deprive someone of skills with hurtful words. Needs, especially emotional ones, was another matter entirely. With the right words you could tear them to shreds, rip them away and leave gaping holes behind.  
  
He sniffled, realising he’d left snotty, wet stains on Daddy’s tanktop. The diaper was wet too and Juice’s skin was damp with sweat. Daddy stroke his hair.  
  
“I think we’d better get you changed and showered, lil’ one. Then ye need something warm to drink an’ a good cuddle. There’s no way we’re jus’ tucking ye back in for the night before ye feel better, lovey.”


	52. Ronea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papi has an idea...

Being submissive was one thing, so was being allowed and safe enough to be weak. It had taken many years and costed a lot of heartache for both him and Filip to reach the state of safety they’d aimed for and although it was worth every pain and miserable moment, Ronea wasn’t so sure any of them would’ve dared to start that process had they known how much it would take, both in time and effort.  
  
Filip helped Juice shower as Ronea changed the bedsheets. It wasn’t strictly necessary to change the sleeping sheets and pillowcases too, but he did it anyway. It was always calming and easier to think if he had something to do with his hands. As he passed the hallway to go down to the utility room, he threw a glance at the door that mostly remained closed. It wasn’t for any traumatical or troublesome reasons, just habit. The room across the upstairs hallway was more of a storing space for various household projects and pottering stuff and originially it was meant to be used as a sewing room.  
  
Over the years, Ronea had prefered to do his knitting and clothes mending downstairs where the light was better and these days, the room was more or less used as an overspaced cupboard he spent more time cleaning than actually using, which wasn’t a lot. They had a guestroom downstairs, but thered never been any reason to use it while Juice was here. Ronea wasn’t even sure his boy had been into it.  
  
While walking down to the utility room, putting the sheets in the metal box marked for bedlinen, underwear and towels, Ronea was deep in though, despite the late hour. If he was completely honest with himeself, and usually he was, Ronea didn’t like the idea of sharing the bed with both Filip and Juice every night. It didn’t mean he loved Juice any less, but precious time with his husband was the skeleton that built up and carried them through life. To always share their bed with a third part, would feel like loosing something.  
  
On the other hand, spending a night all alone every once in a while was also a little tempting after having been three in bed for so long now. And the days… Ronea almost autimatically left the laundry and searched without really looking, for the pack of smokes on the windowsill. He opened the door and walked outside to the backporch, lighting a smoke. It was a pretty cool night but for the moment, he didn’t feel the cold.   
  
He pulled the nicotine down, slowly releasing the smoke and stared into nothing. That sewing space could easily be made into another guestroom. Or rather a Juice room. A place meant for no one else, no guests, just their boy. Ronea had only seen Juice’s small apartment in the webcam and although it was neat and clean, it wasn’t very homey. The idea of giving their lover a key to their house was to make him view it as a place where he could come and go without having to wait for Filip or Ronea to open the door.  
  
A room of his own… Ronea let out a cloud of smoke. Juice could decorate it to his liking and use it as his own. Come and go as he wanted to, within the houserules, of course. When he was strong enough to go back to work, he’d never have to wake up or go to sleep in an empty apartment. He’d come home to his Papi and Daddy, having a healthy dinner and whatever discipline, comfort, rest and alone time as he needed. He could have his household chores, his own schedule to make sure there was balance in his daily life.  
  
Of course, he’d have to obey and Ronea honestly wasn’t sure if Juice was ready for a fulltime experience of that kind of life, but it was very clear that he craved the increased discipline and boundaries right now and going from that straight down to live by his own and be completely independent was absolutely not good. It would just send him back in a terrible head space and that couldn’t happen again. Juice very clearly feared being alone more than anything else and he’d been creepingly skilled in hiding that fear from them, which had lead to him becoming seriously ill.  
  
The idea of making room for their boy, not just mentally or in their marital bed, could either be one of Ronea’s better ones, or not good at all. First, Filip would have to give his permission, of course. If he said no, then it was a no. If he said yes, then the even bigger hurdle of finding out whether Juice would actually like it at all and how much of the expected anxiety would be due to fear of being in the way and how much was due to his low self-esteem.  The simple but yet not that simple difficulty of making him feel like he was worthy of it could take time. Another possibility, of course, was that Juice didn’t like the idea at all and if that was the case, he’d probably be very reluctant to tell, fearing that his lovers would view it as rejection or ungratefulness.  
  
Wilfull submission was wonderful, yes, but Juice’s temporarily weakness wasn’t a choice and Ronea really couldn’t tell whether he’d actually want a fulltime submissive relationship, obeying the rules and being held accountable for his lovers. Ronea’s thoughts were interrupted by the stop of the shower from upstairs and he put his smoke out and went back inside. At the moment, before thinking of making another bed ready, he’d better make the only one currently in use. 


	53. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to scare your Daddies before breakfast.

Much to his own surprise, Juice slept well for the rest of the night. After the shower he’d had a fresh diaper and a bottle of warm rosehip soup in bed, drinking it in Papi’s arms. They’d not bothered with another toothbrushing, only rinsed with flour and soon he’d felt drowsy again, falling asleep while Papi sang softly to him. The nightmares had not returned after that and as he woke up this morning, nestled between his lovers, Juice felt a little less tense and sore. What was more surprising, was the fact that he, weirdly enough, was almost hungry. The third surprising thing wasn’t a very pleasant one, but medically a good thing, he supposed. He’d done number two while sleeping and the diaper was fuller than usual. It was embarressing as hell, but Juice also registrated the fact that his hole wasn’t sore.  
  
Maybe he could get himself clean today? Daddy and Papi were still soundly asleep and Juice very slowly started to try and crawl away. At first, it seemed to work just fine. His Daddies were apparantly very tired and didn’t even startle. Juice managed to wiggle himself down to the bottom of the bed and then over the edge with his legs first. He made it to his knees without too much struggle and then moved to sit on his butt.  
  
A full diaper wasn’t an ideal seat cushion and Juice grimazed as he leaned back onto the bedside to make himself steady. One step at the time, at least he’d learned that by now, and he waited while breathing calmly and locating his limbs to gain steadiness. He was breaking the rules, probably, for not telling Papi or Daddy, but right now he wanted to try for himself even if it would earn him an extra spanking later.  
  
Making it to his hands and knees was a little more difficult. His arms were unruly and it took several moments to gain enough control to stay still. Juice told himself he wasn’t trying to sneak out of being changed by Papi, he just wanted to see if he could make it to the bathroom by himself. Moving his body a little more, that could only be good, right? He was halfway passed the large bed when a quick movement had him freeze on spot.  
  
“Juice?!”  
“Uhm… Here, Papi…”  
  
The bewildered expression in Papi’s face was funny, but Juice realised this wasn’t a good time for laughing at his Papi. Daddy moved too and another pair of sleepy, incredulous eyes looked down on him from the bed.  
  
“ _Juan Carlos Ortiz_ , wha’ in the world do ye think ye’re doing, laddie?”  
“I… I… didn’t wanna wake you up, Daddy.”  
”Ye what?”  
”Uhm… Thought I could… try to move… on my own…”  
  
Papi made a groan and rubbed his face in his hands.  
  
“You scared me half to death, Juicy. How did you even get out of bed?”  
“I crawled, Papi… Sorta.”  
  
Juice bit his lip.  
  
“You were sleeping and I guess… Guess I wanted to try and see if I could get changed myself. I feel quite good today, Papi, and I… I mean… I’m sorry for scaring you, Papi, Daddy. Didn’t think.”  
“No, ye most certainly dinnae, laddie.”  
  
Daddy had his stern voice but he didn’t seem too angry. He left the bed and went to sink down in front of Juice, coming down to his level in a way. His hair was a mess and his eyes crumbled with sleep.  
  
“Juice, I’m not gonnae lie to ye. Ye shouldna have left the bed like tha’, giving yer daddies a scare. Ye could’ve hurt yerself, laddie, an’ ye know tha’ ye broke a rule, right?”  
“Yes, Daddy. I know it was wrong of me and I’m sorry.”  
“Thank ye, Juicy, but why did ye do it if ye knew it was naughty?”  
“Cause I wanted to… see if I could.”  
  
He bit his lip.  
  
”It… would’ve been nice to, I donno… surprise you.”  
“Oh, ye surprised us, alright.”  
  
Daddy shook his head, but there was no real anger there. His eyes were warm and soft and Juice once again nibbled on his lower lip.  
  
“You’re gonna spank me, right, Daddy?”  
“Aye. I’d hoped not having to start the day with it but I’ll give ye a choice, laddie. Either we can wait until yer usual spanking time tonight, or ye can have it after I’ve changed ye, while Papi makes breakfast. Yer choice.”  
“After… after the change, please, Daddy?”  
“Wise decision. Come with me, then.”  
  
Daddy helped him up to sit on the bed and then lifted him in his arms. Papi had already put his robe on and gave Juice a little peck on the nose.  
  
“Be a good boy for Daddy now, sweetheart, and please try not to give me a heart attack again.”  
“I wont, Papi. Sorry.”  
”Alright, baby boy.”  
  
Papi disappeared to the kitchen and Daddy carried Juice to the bathroom and the rubber covered pad they used for diaper change. As always, Juice looked away when the diaper came off, but today, Daddy made a surprised sound.  
  
“Kiddo, I think yer tummy actually is improving. Are ye sore?”  
”No, Daddy.”  
”It actually looks good, laddie… Nice colour an’…”  
”Daddy, _please._ S’embarressing.”  
”I know, but embarressment is better than ulcers, don’ ye agree?”  
“Yeah, I guess.”  
“Are ye really gonnae add sass to yer spanking as well, laddie? Christ, it’s barely halv past six.”  
”Sorry, Daddy. I… wasn’t thinking.”  
”Then maybe ye could use the time I’m changing ye for some silent thinking, aye?”  
”Okay, Daddy.”  
  
He’d been naughty, no question about it. Juice laid still and silent on the pad and let Daddy wash, dry and rub him with aloe. When he’d put the dirty diaper in the trashcan, he promptly turned Juice to place him over his lap on the floor.  
  
“Ye’ll just have my hand for now, Juice, but tonight, ye’ll taste the paddle for scaring Daddy an’ Papi like this. Ye could’ve hurt yerself an’ what if ye’d lost balance close to a sharp edge or worse: the stairs?”  
“I… I’m sorry, Daddy. Donno what I was thinking.”  
”Ye understand ye were naughty, then?”  
”Yes, Daddy.”  
”An’ did ye forget ’bout the rules when ye decided not to wake us up, or did you remember but decided to break it anyway?”  
“I… I remembered, Daddy, but… but I…”  
“S’okay, laddie, ye can tell me.”  
”I wanted to… make it on my own…”  
”I know ye do, but tha’ doesn’t mean ye can choose which rules to obey an’ not, right?”  
“No, Daddy. It doesn’t.”  
”Good. Ye think of tha’ for a good dozen strikes.”  
  
Daddy was far too good at spanking, even if it was only twelve blows, Juice decided as he made his best to lay still. It wasn’t fair that his hand was so efficiant and seemed to know exactly how much, how hard and where to spank to make it sting properly. It was quite hard and Juice could feel the disappointment in each slap, which was worse than the physical pain. Before long he was sobbing and it took a lot of effort to lay still, but he managed and finally, Daddy was done.  
  
He pulled Juice up to straddle his lap and hugged him long and hard, somehow melting the worries away.  
  
“I’m sorry we had to start the day like this, lil’ one. Please, try an’ not break anymore rules before breakfast, for my sake?”  
“S-sorry, Daddy. I’ll be good.”  
”I know ye dinnae do it to make us disappointed, laddie. Ye wanted to try an’ use yer legs an’ tha’s a good thing, but not when ye don’ think ahead an’ take unnecessary risks. If ye wannae try an’ move on yer own even if ye feel unsteady, then ye have but to tell us an’ we’ll try, but in a _safe_ way. Ye understand wha’ I mean, Juicy?”  
“I… I can try on my own but… but I have to have company.”  
”Tha’s right, laddie. Now, can ye promise Daddy not to do this again?”  
”Promise, Daddy. I’m so sorry.”  
”An’ ye’re forgiven, sweetheart. Lemme get ye some aloe an’ a fresh nappy. I think Papi’s making blueberry oatmeal for brekkie.”


	54. Filip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daddy's thoughts over breakfast, some scary coupons, memories of old catastrophic thoughts and why it takes a Papi to spot progress before morning coffee.

His husband had something on his mind. Ronea had this almost absent look on his face – and a freaking adorable little frown – when he’d gotten a new idea of some sort but hadn’t quite found out how to deal with it. It was a farcry from obsessive or gruesome thoughts, although it mostly involved some kind of problem solving Ronea wasn’t ready to share with anyone. Or, in some cases, didn’t need to share.   
  
Once, in the beginning of their marriage, Filip had been so curious at what had caused that look on Ronea’s face for so long, he’d managed to make himself worried and imagine all kinds of stupid things. He’d come as far as preparing for the “I want a divorce” speech, when Ronea had come out of his shell, only to tell with a concearned voice that it seemed like all the tomato plants had been infected with aphids which meant he needed a better pesticide and he didn’t want to make the shopkeeper at the local garden centre think he was a disappointed customer.  
_  
I’d never go anywhere else but to her, Filip, but the brands she has just don’t seem to do the trick. Why are you looking at me like that, by the way? Did something happen?  
  
_ Filip had quickly gathered himself, internally giving himself a slap for being a bloody muppet with catastrophic thoughts, before pointing out that instead of going to another garden centre in the neighborhood, Ronea could just order something online and no local business people would feel betrayed.   
  
A very good idea, it turned out, and the frown had disappeared along with Filip’s embarressingly stupid thoughts of a threatening divorce. He’d bought his husband his favourite wine that night after work, for “no special reason”, but it really was a silent appolgy for being stupid enough to think the worst of his darling man. Filip hadn’t told Ronea about that little episode, because honesty and openness were great things, but burdening his at the time still quite fragile husband with his own insecurity over what turned out to be aphids, was completely unnecessary.  
  
Right now, Ronea was stirring the oatmeal and as Juice made a fierce attempt to sit steady on his own, Filip moved over to the stove to nuzzle his husband’s neck.  
  
“Deep in thoughts, lovey?”  
“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to be absentminded.”  
”Ye’ve not burned the brekkie, so ye cannae be so far gone?”  
  
Ronea smiled and blushed. Christ, how was it possible that a man you’d been with for about twentythree years, could still make Filip weak from blushing?  
  
“I have an idea I’d like to talk about later.”  
“Aye?”  
“Not sure you’ll like it, but it’s really just a thought I had last night.”  
  
Filip turned his husband around to kiss his temple.  
  
“Lovey, I don’ have to like it, jus’ listen to it.”  
  
It was important to remind his husband of this, even after this long. He needed to know and be reminded of that his thoughts, ideas and feelings were equally important as Filip’s. In Filip’s own eyes, even more than his own, but he’d never dare to say that out loud. Ronea was in most ways a very healthy, logical and self-respecting man these days but there were some truths he’d maybe never be able to handle.  
  
Now, Filip’s meek husband leaned into his ear.  
  
“It’s not really a big problem, at least not only a problem. It’s… well, maybe we should wait until we have a moment alone.”  
“Ye’re not feeling unwell or anything, lovey?”  
“Oh, no, nothing like that, baby! I’m just in one of those tangled moments again.”  
  
Filip chuckled then, immediately feeling better.  
  
”Thank God, ye almost scared me for a moment, lovey. Ye want me to help Juice with the oatmeal?”  
“Yes, please, darling. I’ll make you some toast.”  
”Thanks, baby.” _  
_  
A quick kiss and Filip took the prepared bowl with oatmeal, chopped hazelnuts, blueberries, banana bites and almond milk for Juice. His lil’ one was trying to sit normally on the chair today, which proved to be difficult. Not due to a sore bottom, but lack of balance. Juice had a look of determination and annoyance on his sweet face and he was clearly frustrated by his limitations when he spilled some almond milk on the table mat. Ronea put a glass of fresh orange and carrot juice by the bowl, kissing his boy’s crown.  
  
“What’s with the sighs and frown, baby boy?”  
“Balance sucks, Papi.”  
“Is that so? Seems like you’re missing something, my grumpy little darling.”  
“Missing what, Papi?”  
  
Both Juice and Filip looked confused and Ronea rolled his eyes, but smiled fondly.  
  
“Lord help me, you two wouldn’t notice if the house was on fire. You’re eating on your own today, baby boy. Yes, there’s a splash of milk on the table, but just look at how _well_ you’re doing.”  
  
Finally, Filip picked up on their little one’s progress and he stroke Juice’s cheek, giving him one of his warmest smiles that always made Juice feel better no matter what.  
  
“Yer Papi is much faster at noticing things before the coffee, lil’ one. Sorry I dinnae see right away, this is _great_ , Juicy. Ye’re getting stronger every day.”  
  
Praise. It was just as important as the boundaries, consequences and assistance. It may seemed ridiculous, unnecessary or even patronising, praising an adult man in a way you did a child or a mentally challenged person. It wasn’t meant like that, though, and Filip hoped Juice really knew that. The small glimpses into his lad’s childhood and adolescence had not been pretty and it didn’t take a shrink to understand that praise hadn’t been a normal part of Juice’s life, neither as a child, nor as a teen or an adult.   
  
Spankings were something Juice clearly craved, maybe even more than Ronea, and his exploring of the kind of everyday life his Daddies lived, was in way more ways than any of them had realised, a journey into the unknown. Regular, healthy mealtimes, routines and boundaries set for providing as much comfort and help as possible, not to control or break spirits, were all novelties and clearly scary.    
  
The boy who struggled but handled the breakfast really well this morning, couldn’t tell the difference between being loved and being played with. There was a trait of deeply rooted mistrust that, maybe because it didn’t show in the usual ways Filip had seen in former stray kids growned into adults, he’d missed. No cockiness, no attitude really and no fear of being cared for. Juice’s fear was different, an opened wound he couldn’t help but unknowingly scratch bloodied, because he’d only learned to conceal but never really protect or heal it.    
  
A street kid without criminal record, with big muscles yet unwilling fists. With a restless mind and body he seemed to not have much real sense of. _Normal_ simply wasn’t a concept Juice could grasp and whoever had set the boundaries for him in the past, had done it without love or care or any other interest than simply being obeyed. And when others set the boundaries, well then they’d be the ones breaking them too. As in depriving a kid of food, beating him senseless with a razor strop or humiliating him by shaving his hair off.  
  
The thing with the hair was particularly upsetting, because it reminded Filip far too much of the time when he’d found Ronea with his lovely hair brutally chopped off and his poor little kitty dead in his arms. Venus, Tig’s old lady, was as good as a hairdresser and had helped Ronea regain a sliver of dignity by trimming the remains of his hair to a nice undercut and make red highlights – after three months of hiding under a beanie. It took literally years before Ronea could even look at a razor or discover a scissor anywhere off the usual places without freaking out. At first it had been strange to Filip, it was only hair, it would grow back and he constantly made sure his lover knew that he found him just as beautiful and attractive with or without hair.  
  
It wasn’t “only hair”, he’d realised after a while. It wasn’t about being shallow or vain, or the fact that yes, unlike a cut off limb, the hair would grow back. It was about having the decisions about your own body taken away from you. That someone else took the right to use force in order to change your physical appearence against your will and by that telling that no, your body isn’t yours to rule over regardless of your thoughts and wishes.   
  
That’s why it bloody wasn’t “only hair”, or “only clothes” or whatever the fuck people had ruined or taken from Ronea and Juice, being that as kids or adults. It mattered that a scumbag who was supposed to care for, love and protect a kid put in his care because it needed said care, love and protection, instead used his power to control and humiliate the kid by depriving him of one of very few things that should be entirely his own: his hair.  
  
Filip realised he’d fallen too deep into his thoughts and he smiled at Juice who’d managed to eat two thirds of the oatmeal on his own before laying the spoon down.  
  
“Ye want me to help ye with the rest, lovey?”  
“Yes, please, Daddy.”  
  
He didn’t seem reluctant, but accepting his limitations again, which was good. Ronea sipped on his coffee, encouraging his boy from the other side of the table with a sweet smile. His hair was pulled back in half a ponytail and he wore an old green and blue checkered shirt. Not that Filip didn’t find his husband bloody stunning in his fancier clothes, but he’d always had a soft spot for this really relaxed side of Ronea. It had taken a long, long time for him to not feel ugly in front of Filip without make-up and neat clothes.  
  
Just watching his husband and lover at the table today, apparantly made Filip feel soft and sappy, but he really couldn’t help it. He fed his lil’ one the last of the oatmeal while eating his own. Ronea was looking through coupons in the paper and Filip threw a look at the page.  
  
“Paint, lovey? We need tha’ already?”  
”Not sure, yet. More coffee?”  
”I’m good, thanks.”  
  
Clearly, his husband had some sort of new project in mind. Filip spotted a coupon for Chocolate Fudge Pop Tarts and nodded.  
  
“There’s a coupon for Pop Tarts to the left.”  
“Uh-huh.”  
”We should buy some.”  
  
The look of shear and utter affront was simply far too funny not to laugh at and clearly, Juice thought the same. They both bursted out laughing at a very insulted Ronea who folded the paper together and gave his husband a mock smack with it.  
  
“Pop Tarts? _High fructose cornsirup_ and processed junkfood in _my_ kitchen? Over my dead body.”  
”I don’ have to eat’em in the kitchen…”  
”You don’t love me anymore, Mr. Telford.”  
  
The pouting was adorable and only partly joking. Ronea returned to the coupons and marked one with canned tongue to Filip’s utter and sincere horror.  
  
“Lovey, I was only joking.”  
“I know, baby.”  
”Meaning ye don’ have to punish me with tha’ abomination.”  
“Punish? Don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m just looking through the offers, baby. You like canned tongue, Juice?”  
“That… sounds disgusting, Papi.”  
“Well, I guess that’s off the menu, then.”  
  
For a moment, Filip felt a little hurt. He had absolutely no say in food and all Juice had to do, was to scrunch his cute nose and Ronea would melt. Then, his teasing husband laughed too and removed his glasses.  
  
“Filip, seriously? You really think I’d make canned tongue just to get back on you for craving Pop Tarts? If I tell you I’ve planned on roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and Chranachans for dinner tonight, would that ease your worries?”  
_“Chranachans?”_  
“From your auntie’s recipe.”  
  
Filip gave a dreamy smile, forgetting all about teasing his husband any further.  
  
“I’ll never take the name o’ Pop Tarts in my mouth again. Or the actual thing.”  
“Thank you for regaining your senses, baby. Juice, how’s your tummy?”  
”S’okay, Papi. Not that sore.”  
”That’s a relief, baby boy. And look, you’ve finished your oatmeal!”  
  
The slightly confused look on Juice’s face told Filip that the boy hadn’t really noticed, being too busy listening to his Daddies to realise he’d been spoonfed to the last mouthful.


	55. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juice learns to ask for help with a certain problem and Papi is a domestic goddess, as always.

It was Friday and for some reason that surprised him. Time went so slow in his Daddies’ home, but in a very good way. Friday was cleaning, shopping and workout day for Papi, meaning he was quite busy, but apparantly, he’d made a little change by ordering the groceries online and have them delivered this week. The workout, he joked, would be the cleaning today.  
  
Juice was sitting on the kitchen sofa, crosslegged, and watched Papi clean the windows.   
  
“Papi?”  
“Yes, baby boy?”  
“You do this every Friday?”  
“Fridays are my cleaning days, sweetheart.”  
“Yeah, but… do you do the windows and stuff every week?”  
“Every week, my love. I vacuum, mop, scrub, dust, polish and shine.”  
”Is it… necessary, Papi?”  
  
He didn’t mean it as questioning or critique and Papi didn’t seem to take it as such either. He lowered his cleaning rag and smiled.  
  
“I guess that depends on who you’re asking, love. I can think of plenty of things I’d rather do some days, but in the end, I love the routine and I also feel good making things a little extra nice for Daddy when he comes home from work after a long week. And since I’ve done pretty much the same cleaning routine for twenty years, I’ve learned how to do things in order to maintain good conditions in the long run.”   
  
Juice looked down at the old floorboards and the multicolored rag rug. The wood was smoothe from years of scrubbing and the rag rug was old and worn. A lot of things in his Daddies’ house were old, cheap, mended and out of fashion, but that was one of the reason why he loved it so much. Nothing seemed to be only for show, or to impress, but to remain and use money the wisest way possible.  
  
The large pantry was filled with homemade jam, cordial, wine and jelly. It had canned fruit, veggies and beans, large plastic jars with dried mushrooms, apples and fish. In tin cans there were different sorts of homebaked rusks and cookies, as well as a couple of glass jars containing sugarfree chocolate caramel candies and sugarfree boiled fruit sweets, all homemade. Juice had never been able to handle sweet food very well, he didn’t really know why, but he associated candy and cookies with binging and purging. Or eating junk in general. Being bad and out of control. Just thinking of the shelves in Papi’s pantry was worrying and far too tempting. Then, Juice remembered something.  
  
“Papi?”  
“Yes, sweetheart?”  
”Can I ask for a… favor?”  
”Of course, love.”  
”Could you, please, lock the… pantry?”  
  
Papi lowered his cleaning rag and turned around, looking straight at him.  
  
“You’re worried it can trigger a binge, baby boy?”  
  
Juice blushed.  
  
“Yes, Papi.”  
”Then I’ll lock it.”  
  
Papi left the window and gave Juice a kiss on his way to the tempting pantry.  
  
“Good boy, Juicy.”  
“What did I do, Papi?”  
”You told Papi about a difficulty instead of forcing yourself to handle it all alone. That was really good of you. I’m so proud and Daddy will be proud too when I tell him tonight.”  
“You think he’s gonna spank me with the lexan paddle, Papi?”  
  
The lexan paddle wasn’t nice. It really hurt even if it was in a way he usually craved, but it never felt good until afterwards. Papi had locked the pantry, put the key in his pocket and came over to sit on the couch. He stroke Juice’s hair and kissed his crown before putting an arm around him and pull him close.  
  
“Are you worried about your spanking tonight, sweetheart?”  
“Daddy said he’d use the paddle.”  
“That means the small, wooden one, baby boy. If he’d meant the lexan paddle, he would’ve said so. Did he say lexan paddle or just paddle?”  
“Just paddle, Papi.”  
“Then he meant the wooden paddle. Baby boy, you do know that if you have a real reason not to actually have a spanking tonight, then Daddy wont give you one, right?”  
“Don’t think I have a reason, Papi.”  
“No? Tell you what. I have to mop the floor now, but it’s soon snack time and I think I’m gonna make you a bottle you can have in Papi’s lap while the floor is drying. How does that sound?”  
“Sounds nice, Papi. Really.”


	56. Ronea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papi with his baby boy in his arms <3

He’d never wanted _kids_ , still didn’t. The only person he’d ever been able to let in close was Filip, so even if it didn’t really compare, the relationship with Juice was as much of a shock to Ronea as it was for the boy. Needing to be strong and caring for someone in ways Filip didn’t need or wanted, filled a void Ronea hadn’t even known was there. Partly, if Ronea had to guess, it was a need to give someone else the love and care Filip had provided him with since the beginning.  
  
Juice wasn’t stupid or weak. The boy was in fact far more intelligent than he knew, because he’d mostly only heard when he did wrong. More than that, he was extremely empathic. Juice cared about others, cared about not hurting people, about doing a good job and being polite and helpful. Problem was, he couldn’t be that person on his own. The loneliness in only having shallow relationships with co-workers and friends, left no room for exploring and using that care in a way that made Juice happy.  
  
Ronea smiled at the man in his lap, sucking on the bottle. This, being able to give Juice the comfort and care he craved, to try and fill even a sliver of the need that should’ve been filled by a loving parent many years ago, was a marvelous gift that had to be treated with utmost care. The illness, the stress and the previous tastes of comfort with them, had lead Juice to this place in his lap right now. It wasn’t what any of them had expected, wanted or seen coming, but in the kind of dom/sub relationship they had, with the roles they all felt comfortable with, there was room for this too.  
  
Maybe this, giving Juice a sort of grown-up version of being a kid in some senses, was what was necessary in order to actually make him feel strong in the end? Ronea wouldn’t dare to make a guess about it, but one thing was very clear: this temporary arrangement with diapers, bottles, no actual things to do outside their little bubble, no grown-up tasks or roles to live up to, had made Juice recover quite a lot faster than Ronea and Filip had expected. They’d not really told their boy what to expect in terms of steps towards recovery, primarly because they didn’t want him to be too focused on it and end up getting stressed for not reaching goals fast enough.  
  
It was a little sad, perhaps, not being able to actually tell Juice that considering his severe exhaustion, it was nothing short of a miracle that they’d nipped it in the bud this quickly. A lot of the recovery was due to the healthy food, meds, amount of sleep and such, but most of it probably came from Juice himself, from his almost complete acceptance of help and ability to let go of control. Literally laying down his burden and reach up to be carried. The relaxation he was able to give himself by trusting his lovers to take care of him, was something Ronea couldn’t even see himself capable of, not like this.   
  
The sexual part of their relationship was, of course, put on hold for now and Ronea missed it. He absolutely missed his baby boy’s cheeky grin, the playfulness and dirty talking. He missed having sex with him, missed kissing and fucking him, missed seeing Filip melt from their young lover’s gentle and open manipulations.  
  
This was Juice too, no doubt, but it was a side that Ronea hoped would come to rest eventually. Not just because it was worrisome or the fact that Ronea definitely missed the sexual part, of course not, but because it was what Juice wanted. It was very clear to all of them, that being little wasn’t a kink or a real choice, taken by a man who had a real possibility to choose. Juice was ill, he needed time and help to recover and most of all, he needed to experience a lot of embarressing situations where he wasn’t put to shame.   
  
Spankings provided one of them. They helped Ronea in the same way, to feel the embarressment physically and mentally, to lay bare in every sense and trust that no punishment or lecturing would come without the love, care, forgiveness and understanding from his husband. Juice still wasn’t quite there yet, even if he clearly thrived a lot from the spankings. It helped him open up, made it possible for him to touch the subjects he connected with the worst of his shame and self-hatred, and the physical pain, the humiliating yet intimate position and the care Filip showed during the whole procedure, released emotions so he could relax.   
  
It was also sexual to him. Juice would often, not always, but quite often, turn rock hard from being spanked and had even come from it on a few occasions. That made him different from Ronea, but not in a bad way. Physical reactions were not punishable or subject for corrections in this house and that, aside from Juice’s sore tummy and stress, was another reason why Ronea and Filip had agreed on the diapers. It could be really dangerous, to build up that kind of stress and fear of loosing control, the beginning of Juice’s ulcer spoke clear about that, but besides the clinical health part in it, Ronea suspected it was good for Juice to experience that extremely vulnerability in order to learn how to deal with shame and loss of control.  
  
Grown-ups, for natural reasons, weren’t supposed to loose that control and since it wasn’t a kink for Juice, it was a potential stresser if not dealt with right. Changing his diapers had to be done with a light but neutral mood, focusing on the task without adding any unnecessary role play into it. Juice could never feel disgusting, stupid or patronized or played with during a diaper change. Same with the pacifiers and bottles.   
  
Juice sucked eagerly on the warm cherry soup, very relaxed and clearly enjoying both the snack and the closeness. He was eating really well now and rarely feeling sick or getting tummy aches afterwards. The portions were still small and Ronea added nutritional powder to keep up the calorie content to the doc’s reckommended amount. The food supplement containing of multivitamines, iron pills, zink and magnesium, which Juice had been seriously lacking, already helped and he didn’t look nearly as pale and hollow-eyed now. The fact that he’d not binged and purged, or even had a chance to do so in secret right now, helped too.  
  
Juice let go of the bottle and looked up.  
  
“Finished, Papi.”  
  
Ronea smiled.  
  
“Good boy, Juicy. How are you feeling?”  
”Drowsy, Papi.”  
”You need to get changed?”  
”No, thank you, Papi.”  
  
His boy still looked a little worried and Ronea looked at him.  
  
“What’s troubling you, sweetheart? Papi can see you’re worried about something.”  
”Are… are you still angry with me, Papi? You and Daddy?”  
”You mean for this morning?”  
”Uh-huh.”  
”Oh, sweetheart, you _scared_ us, but we’re not angry. Yes, you did break a rule and yes, that was naughty of you, but Daddy and I would never go around a whole day being angry with you. If Daddy, when he went to work, realised he was angry with you, baby boy, he would’ve come home by lunchtime to talk to you. I can safely promise that there wont be an angry Daddy with booming voice and hard eyes coming home tonight. Unless someone damages his bike, of course, but that’s a whole different thing and has nothing to do with you being naughty this morning.”  
  
Now Juice smiled.  
  
“Damaging a bike is pretty much a sacrilege, Papi.”  
  
Ronea gave his arch smile.  
  
“Yeah, well, so is taking out ones rage on innocent people, baby boy. Should Daddy have had an awful day at work and give you a scare because of it, I’ll use every last one of those coupons for canned tongue, mark my word.”


	57. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Daddy is home...

The wooden paddle. Despite the talk and cuddle with Papi earlier, Juice felt himself just crumble as he saw what Daddy brought from the locker. They’d not had their talking yet but Papi was off somewhere, probably the kitchen, and the door was closed. As Papi had assured Juice, Daddy wasn’t angry and had given the usual kiss when he came home, but it didn’t matter right now. For the first time since bending over the couch after puking in Papi’s roses, Juice felt actually scared by the prospect of a spanking.  
  
“Juice? Why aren’t ye kneeling?”  
  
Daddy’s voice was stern, more than usual and instead of obeying, Juice felt how his body simply wouldn’t obey _him_.   
  
“Juice, I wont ask ye again.”  
  
Now Daddy was properly displeased but Juice still couldn’t do as he was told. He couldn’t move, couldn’t look, couldn’t talk. It was ridiculous, but he was terrified and couldn’t for his life understand why.  
  
“Hey, Juicyboy? Wha’s wrong, darlin’?”  
  
He wasn’t kneeling, Daddy was, using his soft voice. The man who was this house’s absolute authority kneeled before Juice, taking his hands.  
  
“Ye’re scared o’ something, aren’t ye, laddie? Something’s bothering ye an’ ye donno how to tell Daddy, so ye’re feeling scared, tha’s it?”  
  
He could only nod and Daddy brushed his knuckles with his thumbs.  
  
“Ye’re having yer spanking, Juicy, there’s no way outta tha’, but I wont do it _right now_ if ye’re not fit. Think ye can talk to me, lovey?”  
  
Juice shook his head, apparantly he couldn’t even answer Daddy respectfully now, and years of previous physical and emotional abuse were taking over, making his body forget he didn’t have to be scared. Daddy leaned in to just kiss his knuckles.  
  
“I’ll put the paddle back in the locker for now, lil’ one, an’ give ye a cuddle, if tha’s alright with ye?”  
  
Daddy was too kind. If this had been anyone else, either a previous partner or foster parent, Juice’s entire backside and thighs would’ve been black and blue by now. Or bleeding. He felt Daddy rise to put the paddle away and then he very gently had Juice sitting on the couch. When the man put his arm around him, Juice’s body couldn’t resist and snuggled up close, leaning into Daddy’s arms.   
  
He loved the smell of garage and leather, of the smoke brand and cheap soap his lover used. It made him feel safer again, but he still couldn’t talk and a small, frustrated sound escaped him. Daddy kissed his crown and hugged him closer.  
  
“Hey, now, lil’ one… Don’ force yerself like tha’, lovey. Nothing good will come outta pushing ye too far off yer comfort zone. I’m not gonnae lie, Juicy, I got really scared and upset when ye dinnae wake us up this morning, because the thought o’ ye getting more hurt from a fall is horrible.”  
  
Juice sniffled, couldn’t really help himself, because to him, the thought of hurting or disappointing his Daddies like this was completely unacceptable. But Daddy didn’t scold, he just rocked him in his arms, shushing him really and kissed his forehead.  
  
“Juicyboy, the same way ye’re obliged to do as ye’re told when ye’re here, _I’m_ obliged to make sure ye an’ Papi feel safe when I discipline ye. If ye’re not, then I cannae give ye wha’ ye need an’ any spanking would only be ‘bout physical pain an’ submission for the sake of it, which on it’s own is completely useless an’ also damaging.”  
  
Daddy nuzzled the crook of his neck now.  
  
“The last time I actually hit a wee child, I was a teen myself, kiddo. I’ve never in my whole adult life even raised my hand against a woman, or a teen, an’ absolutely not a wee child. I’d never slap someone smaller, weaker or someone who cannae choose. I belong to them suspicious people who don’ believe in hitting kids for _any_ reason, no matter if it’s a spanking or a slap in the face. T’is a whole different thing being an adult _choosing_ physical discipline, Juicy, an’ ye can choose to put a stop to our agreement. Tha’s the difference between being trapped in abuse an’ choosing an arrangement tha’ allows all parties to be themselves an’ feel safe.”  
  
Daddy was the best. Juice cried a bit, but he already felt a lot better. The knot of fear in his belly had dissolved and he felt more safe. Daddy didn’t hate him, he didn’t reject him and he wouldn’t beat him to a pulp. Silly thoughts, yes, but now as Juice’s mind started to relax, he could also trace where those thoughts came from.  
  
“Others…. Others n-never listened, Daddy…”  
”An’ yer Daddy an’ Papi have only just begun to realise how much tha’ effected ye, lovey. I must say, kiddo, for being as open as ye are with us, ye have one hell of a skill for concealing old wounds.”  
  
He stroke Juice’s tense back.  
  
“T’is so important for all three of us, tha’ ye speak yer mind, Juicy. Pretending ye’re fit for something when ye’re not, being it spankings, sex or going back to work, isn’t doing any of us a favour, lovey.”  
“I… I need it, Daddy… Need the spanking, I j-just… feel so awful for disappointing you.”  
”How about the risk ye took with yerself, laddie?”  
”I know I was naughty, Daddy.”  
”Look at me, lil’ one.”  
  
Juice reluctantly turned his face to meet Daddy’s dark eyes. The man gave a small, very soft smile and stroke Juice’s cheek.  
  
“Juicyboy… My lil’ muppet… Ye’re quite a handful, aren’t ye? Jus’ like yer Papi so many years back. Ye have to understand, laddie, tha’ my sole purpose with making the final decision, with obediance an’ discipline, is to make my submissive partners feel safe, loved an’ cared for. I know ye definitely need a good spanking today, lovey, but _ye_ know I have different ways to do it, depending on the situation, right?”  
“Yes, Daddy. I know that.”  
“And as yer top, I decide tha’ ye’re not fit for the wooden paddle today, an’ instead I’ll use the spoon, which is a bit more lenient. Ye think ye can handle tha’, Juicy?”  
  
The spoon. Harder than the hand and birch whisk, but not as painful as the paddle, or twigs and not even close to the lexan paddle or rattan cane. He nodded.  
  
“Yes, Daddy. I know I was naughty and I need you to correct me, please.”  
“Good boy.”  
  
Daddy kissed his hair again before going to the cabinet and take the wooden spoon out from it’s place. Juice was kneeling by the couch and Daddy sat down.   
  
“Pull yer pants an’ nappy down, boy.”  
  
Juice obeyed, feeling the familiar pang of humiliation, reluctance and anticipation as he bared himself. Daddy patted his lap.   
  
“Bend over.”  
  
It was a relief not having to answer during these proceedings and Daddy helped him adjust to a comfortable and steady position, angling his cock for the sake of friction. He was handed a pillow to clutch and then the first strike fell.  
  
Normally, he wasn’t as quick with crying, but today, Juice had tears falling within six strokes and Daddy stopped for a moment.  
  
“Are ye alright, kiddo?”  
”Y-yes, Daddy. C-can take it.”  
”Are ye sure?”  
  
Juice took a deep breath, finally knowing how he felt.  
  
“H-hurts, but in the right way, Daddy. Was naughty an’ I’ve earned this spanking fair and square.”  
“I’m glad ye feel tha’ way, laddie. We’re not nearly done yet.”  
  
How could something that hurt feel so good? Juice sobbed with every smack from the spoon, but it wasn’t enough and he started squirming. Daddy stopped again.  
  
“Are ye being difficult now, Juicy?”  
“N-no, Daddy. I-I… Sorry, I want my spanking, Daddy, but… But it’s… not doing the trick.”  
”Too lenient, huh?”  
”Y-yes, Daddy.”  
”I know the remedy for tha’, laddie. Back to yer knees, on the couch an’ wait while I get something else.”  
  
He was gently put back to kneel while Daddy left the room. It was a bit unnerving being alone in the midst of a spanking session, but Daddy was back in an instance, with Papi’s large hairbrush. He closed the doore, sat back down and helped Juice back in position without unnecessary talking and started over.   
  
Five strokes in, the feeling was quite a lot different and Daddy stopped again.  
  
“Better, laddie?”  
  
Juice could only whine and nod, because it absolutely hurt and he wanted Daddy to stop, and not stop at the same time. That meant it was better. Daddy placed another three smacks right on his reddening backside.  
  
“Ye were _very_ naughty, Juice, an’ ye know tha’ naughty boys get bare bottom spankings in this house.”  
“Y-yes, D-daddy. Ow!”  
  
Daddy alternated between his buttocks and it stung something awful, but Juice felt completely safe now. He cried, whined and was definitely loud, begging Daddy to stop, promising to be a good boy, but it wasn’t a plea for an actual stop, but the emotional part of the spanking. Being allowed to not control himself, to let out whatever words or sounds the spanking would elicit from him, unrestricted and unashamed.  
  
“Ow! P-please, D-daddy, I… Ow! It _hurts_ , Daddy! I’ll… Ow! I’ll b-be a good b-boy, p-please, stop!”  
“Six more, Juicy. Ye’re handling it well.”  
  
Praise was always soothing, even if the last six slaps were sharp and had him clench his cheeks, kick his feet and scream. He cried into the pillow when Daddy put the brush away and started stroking his shoulders and hair.  
  
“All done now, kiddo. Ye’re forgiven an’ Daddy is _so_ proud o’ ye for opening up, talking an’ asking Daddy for help, especially when it’s about something tha’ I know makes ye feel both scared an’ ashamed. _Such_ a good lad, Juicyboy… ”  
”Juicy’ll _never_ scare Papi or Daddy again…”  
“Thank ye, lovey. Ye need to blow yer nose?”  
“Yes, please, Daddy.”  
  
Daddy hauled him up to straddle his lap and then put a tissue on his nose.  
  
“Blow.”  
  
Juice obeyed and then Daddy took up a familiar plastic box from his hoodie, opened it and put the previously hated and now much needed item into Juice’s mouth. He started sucking immediately, still crying while resting his head on Daddy’s shoulder. The man had widened his thighs not to touch the sore backside and grabbed the blanket from the couch corner, wrapping it around his boy.  
  
“There we go, lil’ one. Daddy loves ye _so much_ , kiddo, no matter wha’ ye do, ye hear tha’? I love ye when ye’re good, when ye’re naughty, when ye’re here with us an’ when ye’re away, Juice. Papi loves ye jus’ the same an’ it’s perfectly natural for ye _not_ being able to do some things on yer own yet, my lad. Righ’ now, ye’re not supposed to try an’ sit on the toilet or change yer nown nappies, lovey. Me an’ Papi will change, wash an’ dress ye for a lil’ while yet. _We_ will make sure ye’re cleaned, fed, rested an’ properly dressed, sweetheart. Tha’s not yer responsibility until we deem ye fit.”  
“S-still feel stupid with the diapers, Daddy.”  
“Well, learn to love’em, kiddo, because I wont let ye out of wearing them, until yer tummy is healed an’ ye’ve learned to ask for help without feeling stupid or ashamed.”  
  
Juice huffed, sucking at his pacifier.  
  
“I’ll never stop feeling ashamed, Daddy.”  
“Never is a very long time, lovey. An’ right now, I think yer bottom is grateful for some extra padding at the dinner table.”


	58. Filip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a top and Daddy, has it rewards.

”Ye’re good, baby?”  
”Yes, Filip. It’s been a while, though.”  
”All the more a reason to put it in good use, Ronea.”  
”Yes, sir. Thank you.”  
  
His husband needed him and Filip took control of his own desire to pull the extra thick plug out and instead take that needy hole for a ride on his cock, but that wasn’t what Ronea actually needed right now, especially with the limited time they had. The chastity belt was already in place, the one not preventing a boner, only the ability to come and with the plug firmly in place and attached with comfortable yet firm straps by the chastity belt, Ronea was very much locked up for the night – and achingly hard.  
  
The firm buttocks were already glowing from the weekly spanking. There’d not been any serious transgressions and the shade was nicely pink from lexan paddle but not red and Filip couldn’t resist giving them a playful slap, seeing the ample flesh quiver. Filip would’ve loved to bury himself balls-deep between them, but before they could do anything of the sort, they had other things to handle, such as dinner, looking after their lil’ one and have a relaxed evening together before putting Juice to bed and have some husband time.   
  
Filip kissed Ronea’s cheek.  
  
“I want ye in yer stockings an’ white hotpants tonight, Ronea.”  
“With pleasure, sir.”  
“During dinner as well.”  
“Oh.”  
  
The hesitation was expected, but Filip was honestly impressed that his husband didn’t protest, but simply went to his closet and dressed in the requested clothes. The particular pair of hotpants were extremely tight and would show off a prominent bulge, especially with the way the chasisty belt was fitting. It would also make wet spots more visible, which Ronea knew more than well. He blushed as he got dressed and finished with a pair of boots he only used inside, in thin leather that fitted snugly around his long legs. Finally, he took a look in the mirror and almost choked by what he saw.  
  
“Sir, this is obscene…”  
“I know, my love, an’ ye look absolutely stunning.”  
  
Along with the usual black, shortsleeved shirt, his husband was a walking desire with the perfect, white bulge between his thighs. He was rock hard, fabrics straining beautifully and a slight print from the plug if he bent.   
  
“Sir, is this a punishment for keeping a secret from you?”  
  
Filip stopped ogling and hugged his husband.  
  
“Not at all, an’ it’s not sir anymore now, lovey. Alright?”  
“Okey, baby.”  
”Wha’ was that thing ye wanted to talk to me about, lovey?”  
“It’s too close to dinner time to have that talk now, Filip. I’m not hiding anything and there’s nothing wrong, I promise, but I’d like to discuss it when we have some time on our own and not while risking to burn the steak. Is that okay?”  
“Of course, darlin’. No stress, aye?”  
  
He rubbed Ronea’s arms for emphasy and the man relaxed.  
  
“Thanks, baby. Oh, dear Lord, I have to check the oven! Filip, could you be a dear and give Juice a change?”  
“On my way, ma’m.”  
“Coupons, Filip, _coupons_.”  
  
Filip laughed at the so called threat and gave his husband a kiss before releasing him. The smell from the almost finished roast was mouthwatering, every surface in the kitchen was bright clean and spotless, the table set with weekend china and with both his husband’s and lad’s Friday conversations and spankings over and done with, and with good outcome, Filip went down to the livingroom, feeling much more lighthearted than before.  
  
Juice was laying by the fire, snuggled up in a blanket and with his pacifier still in his mouth. He’d obviously needed that extra comfort today, while he was alone during his Papi’s spanking, but he looked completely relaxed and when he saw Filip, he looked up with a bright smile.  
  
“Hi, Daddy!”  
“Hi, lil’ darlin’. How are ye feeling?”  
”Good, Daddy.”  
  
His boy got up on his elbows and pulled Filip down to hug him. Filip chuckled as his joints cracked.  
  
“Easy there, laddie. Yer Daddy’s an old bastard.”  
  
Juice nuzzled his neck and held on in a surprisingly strong grip that warmed Filip’s heart.  
  
“Juice will tell Papi that you spoke badly ‘bout yourself, Daddy.”  
“Aye?”  
“Called yourself a bastard, Daddy, an’ you’re not a bastard, you’re the best Daddy ever.”  
  
God, his lil’ one had no clue how much it meant hearing something like that from the very one Filip only an hour ago had given a quite stern lecture and spanking. This wasn’t the withdrawn, tense and scared man Filip had met when he came home, but a relaxed, open and almost bubbly, albeit sore, lad who not only wasn’t unsure of whether he’d deserved closeness, but initiated it in a completely natural and unashamed way.  
  
The sweet lad looked at him, eyes big and trustful.  
  
”Can you please change my diaper, Daddy?”  
“Of course, darlin’. I’m proud o’ ye for asking directly, Juicy. Are ye steady on yer feet or do ye need me to carry ye?”  
“Carry, please, Daddy. An’ can Juicy have the pacifier, please?”  
  
This was really good. It wasn’t many feet to the downstairs bathroom and Ronea had put another changing pad there along with nappies and supplies for change. Juice wasn’t the least reluctant or seemed ashamed as he allowed Filip to help him down. He was sucking on the pacifier and didn’t look away quite as much as Filip removed his nappy.  
  
There actually was a good amount of faeces with both healthy color and consistence, which Filip’s very clinical mind registered with a joy he couldn’t really show Juice. He folded and tossed the used nappy before taking the wet wipes to clean his boy.  
  
“Have ye done number two anymore after brekkie, Juicy?”  
“No, Daddy. Jus’ peed.”  
”Ye dinnae hold it in the whole day, right?”  
”Nuh-uh. Happened while you were spanking Papi.”  
”Good. Tha’s really good, Juicy. Did it hurt?”  
”No, Daddy. Jus’ happened.”  
  
Juice’s previously puffy hole indeed seemed a lot better. Filip was very thoroughly while washing it, knowing how important it was with proper hygiene, and the color of the hurt hole had gone from red to a more heatlhy pink tone. Still a bit sore, no doubt, but much improved. Filip gave the usual shot of aloe, applying a little extra of the soothing cream onto Juice’s buttocks. He finished off by sprinkling baby powder over his groin, not to humiliate or babying him, but to keep the skin from getting swampy and red from the nappy.  
  
His boy laid trusting and relaxed on the changing mat, sucking on his pacifier and waiting without any fuss until Filip had put a clean nappy on along with shorts and pants.   
  
“There, all done, laddie. It’s almost dinner, so why don’ ye wash up an’ go to Papi?”  
”Yes, Daddy. Thank you.”  
”Ye’re welcome, lil’ darlin’.”


	59. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday night dinner at the Telford-Tully residence :)

He felt so good it was almost a little scary. He was sitting on his spanked, diapered bottom, feeling the warm soreness that reminded him who was in charge and it sure as hell wasn’t him. Even the diaper felt comfortable, safe and as a sign of Daddy’s care for him, not a humiliating punishment. Juice swore to himself not to go – or crawl – anywhere near the toilet until Daddy decided he could.   
  
Papi, who was putting the steak, Yorkshire puddings, boiled veggies and sauce on the table, was also wearing something different tonight, something that if Juice hadn’t been still weak and ill, would’ve given him an immediate boner. Instead it was Papi who was hard, locked up in one of his chastity belts that made his white, fancy hotpants bulge as if his swollen cock was ready to burst through the snug fabrics. Papi had also been properly plugged and that meant Daddy was planning on riding him hard tonight.  
  
Juice didn’t feel jealous, or even sad that he couldn’t join. At the moment, his libido was at rock bottom and even if it wasn’t, he had more than enough medical reasons not to engage in sex for a while. Rather than feeling left out or worried about it, Juice basked from the moment he’d had with Daddy earlier and was happy to know that Papi was clearly satisfied from _his_ spanking and would have Daddy’s cock tonight if he wanted to. When Papi brought the jug of water to the table, Juice grabbed his shirt.  
  
“Papi?”  
“Yes, baby boy?”  
”You’re really pretty in those hotpants.”  
”Thank you, Juicy.”  
  
Papi actually blushed and Juice couldn’t help but grinning at him.  
  
“You’re blushing, Papi.”  
“Oh yeah? From what I heard, a certain baby boy’s cheeks are quite red too.”  
”So are yours, right Papi?”  
”That’s right, baby boy. Papi spoke to Daddy, told him all about his shortcomings and then Daddy gave him a proper spanking which Papi needed badly.”  
“Tha’s why you put your fancy clothes on, Papi? ‘Cause you feel better now?”  
”Yes, baby boy. I feel a lot better.”  
”Me too, Papi.”  
  
He knew he wasn’t actually physically stronger now, but he still felt like he was, at lest for a moment. He had his baggy jeans, warm socks and one of Papi’s knitted cardigans over his tanktop, which was cozy but didn’t make him feel like he was in ”sickness clothes” and also didn’t make the diaper too visible. Daddy was upstairs to fresh up before dinner and Papi had lit candles on the table and the countertop.  
  
For once, there was no feeling of being out of place or intruding tonight. While looking around the kitchen, Juice felt surrounded by familarity and safety. The chair he was sitting on, was put there for him, as was the plate, cutlery, glass and folded linen napkin in front of him. Outside the window, the tall hedge stopping any peeking into the garden, was moving a little in the breeze and the sun was almost set. Papi and Daddy did their usual Friday routine, the kitchen smelled from roast, the cleaning soap Papi had mopped the floor with and the sauce still stirring on the stove.  
  
“You’re hungry, baby boy?”  
“Not really, Papi, but it smells delicious.”  
  
Papi smiled at him.  
  
”Don’t worry, sweetheart, I know your tummy can’t handle as much as you’d like to. Remember you absolutely don’t have to clean your plate and you’ll have a very small portion for a start. If you can’t stomach it yet, we’ll go with a suppliment drink instead, okay?”  
“Okay, Papi.”  
  
He really didn’t have to think about anything. Daddy and Papi covered everything and rather than feeling patronized or humiliated, it made Juice feel good now. He’d been here for some time now and the times his brain didn’t catch up with what good being this helpless would do, his body sure did.   
  
Things hurt less, for a start. Not the spankings, of course, but the _bad_   kind of hurt. His stomach didn’t feel like it was biting him, he didn’t feel sick from eating and he was very rarely haunted by horrible nightmares now and when he had one, it wasn’t as bad as before. He had another doctor’s appointment next week, but weirdly enough it didn’t bother him much. Daddy and Papi were dealing with the schedule and they’d never dream of letting Juice go there on his own. He wasn’t even fit to drive yet.  
  
“Smells wonderful, lovey.”  
  
Daddy had just entered the kitchen, having had a shower and changed to a pair of _really_ wornout jeans he only used at home and a dark green hoodie with the Celtics logo barely visible anymore. It looked a little funny as Papi was more dressed up, but Juice knew it had little to do with etiquette. This was his lovers being completely relaxed in clothes they wouldn’t choose to wear around others.   
  
Papi threw his husband a brilliant smile.  
  
“Thanks, baby. Have a seat.”  
  
Daddy gave Juice a little kiss on his forehead before sitting down. The way Daddy behaved after having spanked and talked to him, was way different compared to any other person who’d punished or had a serious conversation with Juice in the past. With Daddy, there was no hidden agenda, no grudge and he seemed able to actually stop feeling disappointed, angry or even sad over Juice’s transgressions as soon as he had talked to, spanked, comforted and forgiven him.   
  
Daddy, Juice started to realise, didn’t handle lack of closure that well and spanking wasn’t a tool he used to satisfy himself, but to give Papi and Juice what _they_ needed. Only when he knew he’d fulfilled their needs to the best of his ability, Daddy would feel happy, loved and safe as well. Daddy wasn’t the head of the house, he was the heart.


	60. Ronea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparantly, Papi is slipping into his own mind a lot today and yes, it's sappy.

His boys were full and relaxed, cuddling on the couch and commenting the movie with low voices. Ronea was sitting in the corner of it, to get some light from the lamp while knitting on Juice’s middle blue beanie, and he felt pretty tired. Filip and Juice needed some cuddle time with each other, since they’d been away from each other all day and Ronea silently admitted to himself that it felt quite nice just being left alone with his thoughts, knitting and _Miss Marple: A Caribbean Mystery._  
  
Usually, he’d prefered a horror movie, something gothic or a good thriller, but as long as Juice was this fragile, any kind of potentially triggering or upsetting culture consumtion was banned, at least in front of him. They didn’t have drinks tonight either, just tea, although Ronea had sneaked a splash of Scotch in his husband’s cup, which Filip thanked for with a small smile. It was, in many ways, a quite typical Friday night for them, despite the situation with Juice. Clubbing, parties or dinners with friends were things belonging to Saturdays, while Friday was the day to simply put your feet up on the couch, lazily watching a movie, sipping on a drink and, depending on how knackered they were, maybe have sex.   
  
Contrary to what their friends thought, it could actually go up to a couple of weeks or more sometimes in between. Seriously, they were humans and not machines, magically getting in the mood just because it was weekend. Sex was fun, yes, and with Filip – and their baby boy – also very intimate in a way that honestly could be a bit exhausting sometimes. Ronea had figured the way he functioned himself, was that he could go without sex for as much as three or four weeks without if he was emotionally satisfied. Netiher him nor Filip were that good sex partners while being stressed or having too much going on. They had learned early on that the best way to snap out of a no mood period, was to relax and just accept it. It tended to last shorter with that attitude and made the reunion that much sweeter.  
  
It made Ronea happy, being free to not engage in conversation yet still not feeling left out. His husband knew him and understood his need for a little downtime after their usual Friday session. It felt nice just watching the two of them. Juice had managed a very small amount of steak, Yorkshire pudding and veggies, but had finished the suppliment drink as well as a portion of the strawberry pudding they had for dessert, which was really a great achievement. Sooner rather than later, they had to tell Juice about how well he was healing, but of course that meant the risk of him starting to put too much strain on himself too soon. Baby steps for their baby boy, was the main theme for now.  
  
Another thing that made the homemaker happy right now, was the plug, chastity belt and the warm, tingling sensation on his backside. As much as he hated to disappoint Filip, he loved the way he felt after a spanking. Over his husband’s lap, Ronea could lay down any burden and receive the reprimand, the understanding and always, _always_ forgiveness. Filip was strict, yes, but more than that he was fair and seemingly endlessly loving. The man didn’t ask to be loved and definitely didn’t demand it. Filip Telford asked for permission to love him, treating Ronea as the apple of his eye ever since the beginning.  
  
Ronea smiled to himself over his knitting. Filip’s way of showing affection or spoiling him had been adorably shy and a little awkward, when they’d established their relationship, but not yet talked about moving in together. They were both poor and instead of wasting money on expensive dating options like the first one Ronea escaped from, Filip would leave notes on weird places for Ronea to discover. His shoes, for example. Ronea actually had an old cookie tin in his drawer, containing every one of those notes, with various love themes in his husband’s crooked handwriting. A lot of them were in Gaelic with fucking sidenotes of where in the Gaelic dictionary to look for translation, just because his then boyfriend, soon to be fiancé, loved teasing him and because Ronea loved the fact that the weird man put so much effort into something as small as notes.  
  
It had been a courtship, really, only with a good amount of heartache and upsetting emotions none of them had asked for added to it. One of the most treasured gifts from Filip, was an old music box playing _Comin’ Thro’ The Rye_ and _Auld Lang Syne_. The night when Filip had proposed to him, he had no ring and although Ronea didn’t count on one – how little he knew his husband to be at the time – a couple of weeks later, he’d found a weird wooden box on his pillow after Filip had asked him to get his hoodie he’d “probably forgotten on the bed”.   
  
_Surprised_ didn’t even begin to describe what he’d felt when opening the small box with what Filip with blushing cheeks later explained was the Celtic knot and a symbol of marriage and the almost fragile sounding tune started playing as Ronea stared at a silver ring with the same knot pattern in white, extremely thin lines.   
  
He’d been frozen on spot, sinking down on the small bed and just gaping, when the sound of Filip’s light feet and the low, almost appologizing voice came from the doorway.  
  
_Wanted to do it properly… Ye, uhm, ye like it?_ _Maybe I overdid this, ye can change it to something else if ye want to…_  
  
The music had still been playing while Ronea, of course, being the fucking emotional wreck he was back then, started crying and then, when he saw his boyfriend’s horrified face, laughing, nodding and just plain on whimpering from the emotional turmoil while holding his left hand out for the adorable sap of a Scotsman to put the ring on.  
_  
You meant it… You really meant it, didn’t you?  
  
’Course I meant it, muppet.  
  
But it’s not even legal.  
  
So? Ye still wannae, right?  
  
Christ almighty, yes, Filip. Fucking yes!_  
  
They’d talked so much about their relationship by then, it was a given their marriage, even if the government wouldn’t acknowledge it for what it was, would be based on the same terms as they’d tried out and shaped for the majority of their almost three years together.  
   
Huge parts of the time between their engagement and the wedding, Ronea mostly remembered in a sort of haze. He didn’t wore his ring at work, with Filip’s full support of course, to avoid curious questions Ronea simply wasn’t ready to answer yet. Instead he’d had it in a chord around his neck, concealed beneath his clothes. He worked as an usher and cleaner at the library back then, where the initially suspicious librarian, a sixtyfive year old Mrs. Lòpez, commented his unusual smile and the blushing he couldn’t hide.  
_  
I think someone’s met a girl, Mr. Tully.  
  
Uhm… Yeah, Mrs. Lòpez… Kinda._  
  
She’d only raised her eyebrows at that, not commenting any further, but if she suspected the usher with long, dyed hair, although neatly collected in a discrete ponytail, to be gay, she never let it show and none of the other two or three part time workers said a word or treated Ronea any different.  
  
The year that went up until the wedding, Ronea and Filip spent talking. It was as if the proposal had opened a damm, as if the tiny piece of metal somehow worked as a key. Tig and Bobby would exchange exasperated looks while Venus was practically bursting from wedding nerves – something that made Tig _really_ nervous – and the engaged couple themselves barely noticed shit outside their own little bubble.  
  
The day before the actual wedding, they’d spent in separate places. Ronea with Venus and Filip at the club house with his friends. Ronea had laughed at the phone call from a quite drunk fiancé shouting what seemed to be affections in a _very_ Scottish accent, as Ronea himself had been spoonfed with absinth from Venus to calm his nerves. By some miracle and a large shot of an absolutely awful but effective hangover cure the morning after, Ronea got his nerves under control.  
  
He remembered how he’d dressed in the grey suitpants and vest, same color as Filip’s tartan, and how his tats and scars showed beneath the halflong, black shirt sleeve. His hair, of course, had grown back again and Venus had cut it short to his chin after much thinking from Ronea. It had felt strange to let anyone near it with a scissor and despite trusting Venus, Ronea had been unable to do it without Filip present. The fact that Venus had made his hair on the wedding day was good enough for progress on that area. When she’d done the make-up and finished by putting a small scarlet flower on the lapel of his suit, Ronea started to calm down and the one looking really nervous, was his husband to be as they met outside the MC club house to join arms before entering the area prepared for them.  
  
Bobby had held the short ceremony while Tig and Venus were the only witnesses during the vows. There’d been no jokes or laughters, because while it was a happy occasion, it was also serious and Ronea couldn’t remember much from it aside from Filip’s beautiful face and how the man was stuttering at first while beginning to say his vows, his hands shaking a little as he put the ring on Ronea’s finger.  
  
In a way none of them barely noticed anyone or anything beside the other man. There’d been no music, no cheering, no applause and no speaches during the ceremony, only them and their vows. They’d signed their prepared contract together, then Tig and Venus signed as witnesses and Bobby, who was visibly moved by the whole thing, declared them husbands in the eyes of each other and all their friends, whatever gods that may or may not exist, and fuck the rest. Before any “you may kiss the groom” passed Bobby’s lips, Filip had already sealed the deal and Venus reached for another tissue.  
  
Before any of them could proceed to the party, the grooms had been left alone for a moment, thanks to Venus who quickly realised both men were about to cry and absolutely didn’t need an audience to that.   
  
So, for a while, Ronea had been standing with his only minutes old husband’s arms around him in the room, both of them crying, while Filip whispered words that weren’t for anyone but Ronea to hear:   
  
_I’ll never let ye down, never make ye regret this, lovey, I swear… My darlin’… My husband… Lovey…_  
  
“Lovey? Ronea?”  
”Huh? What did I miss?”  
”Only four tries to reach ye, darlin’. Lost in thoughts, aye?”  
  
Ronea blushed, seeing his husband’s and lover’s curious looks and the wedding image disappeared, replaced by something that was just as sweet, only different: the two very present loves of his life. He kissed first his husband, then Juice on the cheek.  
  
“I was just thinking about how happy my boys make me.”  
  
Many years ago, Friday nights had meant clubbing and the idea of watching a movie at home just depressing to Ronea. Now he wouldn’t change their peaceful, domestic time together for the world.


	61. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Juice gets lost in his thoughts, it's rarely nice ones...

Papi loved doting on Daddy, but when it came to making drinks, giving back or foot rubs or simply making sure that the other man was comfortable, didn’t freeze or something, Daddy was the one doing the doting. It wasn’t forced and definitely not for show, but natural as a routine that’s so rooted you’re barely aware of it anymore.  
  
It was fascinating to watch after this long time with them in their home and everyday life. The chaste good morning and goodbye kisses, the tired welcome home/glad to be home kisses, Daddy hugging Papi by the stove with his slightly too large belly fitting in Papi’s sway-back, kissing his neck while finding out what he was cooking for dinner. The way Daddy touched Papi like he was making sure he was still in one piece and how Papi in turn bent his head backwards, leaning it onto Daddy’s shoulder as if saying _finally you’re back_.  
  
Juice had seen enough couples being overly affectionate with each other in other people’s presence, to know this wasn’t hokey in any sense. He’d also seen those who didn’t make an effort in everyday life, only to try and make up for it on occasions like birthdays, wedding days and Christmas. For some reason, he had a very difficult time picturing his lovers trying to make up for missteps, too much work or a shitty mood with flowers, dinner dates and expensive gifts. The most important thing to them, was time together – and giving each other space.  
  
Routines, coziness and a well-balanced work load were cornerstones. In the last weeks, Juice had been able to watch Papi’s homemaker’s life and it was about as far from both Desperate Housewives, suburban soccer moms and rich spouse life as it could be. First of all, Papi was the one in charge of the money, which had come as a small shock to Juice. Since Daddy was the one working, Juice had seen it as a given that he also ruled over the economy and decided how much they should spend on things, but no.   
  
Papi had been sitting with his laptop one afternoon during their snack time, with his reading glasses on that Juice secretely thought made him look like a hot dork, and gone through the household cash book for the month. Juice had just had a little sneak peek, but what he’d seen was detailed ecxel columns and calculations with Papi’s plans for each week, the month as a whole and longterm plans throughout the year.  
  
He also had a coupon collection, organized after dates and kept in check with a system that gave Daddy a headache by just looking at it, but saved more time and money than he dared to even guess. Papi’s meal plans didn’t just cover dinners, but breakfasts, lunches and snacks as well. He knew when and where to pick wild fruits and berries, the best places to go fishing and his clothes washing routine was so rigorous, it had literally kept even cheap clothes nice for far longer than expected. Juice knew that Daddy was extremely proud of and grateful for all that hard work that allowed them to live the way they did.   
  
Both worked hard and instead of acting like a lot of husbands Juice had come across through his many years in the foster care system, who’s wives were stay-at-home moms or housewives without small kids, complaining about how they worked all day while their wives just had a good time at home and wasted _his_ money – which of course rarely was the case – Daddy was nothing but grateful for all the things Papi knew of to make their life easier, cheaper and more comfortable. Juice had never seen or even heard of a fulltime provider who let the homemaker make most of the financial decisions and it collided a little bit with the whole obedience thing, that the submissive partner was, in fact, the one in charge of the economy. Daddy even left his receipts to Papi for him to write in the cash book. Outside things that had to do with bikes – or gifts – Daddy had told Juice he never made a larger purchase before asking Papi first. Papi, on the other hand, didn’t ask, he just informed since he knew more than well how much to spend on what.  
  
It was a curious system, much as their inextricable little rituals for doting on each other. It also, unfortunately, gave Juice the feeling of being an audience, or worse, an intruder. Being jealous about it felt stupid because the idea of people acting like they hadn’t spent more than twenty years together when they clearly had, was just fucked up. Still, the otherwise really pleasant feeling Juice had this night, was a little clouded by the voice reminding him that he was still just a guest and that feeling a bit left outside was greedy, insolent and ungrateful.  
  
They loved him. It was something that took time to learn and trust, Juice knew that, but sooner or later he’d be fit to look after himself again and that meant leaving this house, at least during the week. It wasn’t that he begrudged his lovers their precious time together, no way. The problem wasn’t them or _their_ happiness, but Juice’s way of handling life on his own. Or lack there of.  
  
It was rude, selfish and naive to silently wish for a reason to stay. Weak too. Juice was a grown-ass man and when his stomach and stress levels had settled a bit more, he had to go back home and deal with his everyday life and his own routines himself. He no longer thought his lovers didn’t want to be disturbed if he felt alone, he’d learned that by now, but a phonecall wasn’t the same as coming home to something that wasn’t just a place to eat, sleep and store your things, but an actual _home.  
  
_ Almost automatically, he reached for the pacifier in it’s box on the table and started sucking. The thoughts and his diffculties with stopping them worried him and the damn pacifier helped. Suddenly, he got an image of himself sucking on it, while sitting on the street in just a diaper and with a poster around his neck.  
  
_Slitghly retarded child, please adopt._  
  
The image was comical but mostly just sad and pathetic, because it seemed awfully suitable.   
  
“Juicyboy? Darlin’ wha’s the matter?”   
  
Daddy’s voice. Calm, yet worried. Surprised. Juice looked at his hands, realising from the wet stains that he was crying. Silent and slow, but simply unstoppable. He heard Papi putting his knitting away and lowering the TV volume. Both men sat with him now, one on each side with him in the middle, having their arms around him and all Juice could do, was cry. Realising he wouldn’t be able to put words into what was going on inside him, made him cry even worse.  
  
“S’alright, lil’ one. If ye can talk to us, ye talk. If ye cannae find words righ’ now, s’okay too, Juicy.”  
“You’ve gone through a lot lately, baby boy. It’s perfectly okay to cry if you need to and you don’t have to talk now if you don’t feel like it. We can just sit like this, that okay with you, sweetheart?”  
  
At least he could nod and with that tiny, wordless answer, his Daddies were satisfied. And he kept crying.   
  
It wasn’t like the tears from spankings or nightmares or even anxiety. These were old tears that had been bottled up for many years, hidden behind closed doors and a mask of strenght. From hard words and silent exclusion, scornful looks and brutal hands. Stored in frozen silence after years of abuse and fears he thought he’d left behind.  
  
He was an idiot, constantly longing for more than what he deserved and he never learned.


	62. Filip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daddy and Papi finally understand the width of their lil' ones terrors.

99% of the time, Filip wished that his husband had never gone through all the pain and misery before they met, but tonight, the experience of dealing with that was the only thing that kept Filip calm. Their sweet lover had, seemingly out of the blue, started crying and for once, he seemed out of reach for any comfort.   
  
”I can’t _do_ this! It’s not _right_ , Daddy.”  
  
The first words the heartbroken lad was able to form, had a for him very unusual desperation behind them. It was as if something had just collapsed within him and wouldn’t be stopped. Filip’s initial reaction had been to have a real talk, but after exchanging a look with his husband, he knew that wouldn’t do. Juice wasn’t Ronea but they were both human beings and Filip loved them even if he knew his husband a hundred times better.   
  
Now, Ronea was the calm and composure personified, a rock in human form and scared by nothing, at least not the inner demons of their lover. He held the hysterical lad in his arms, rocking him slowly.  
  
“You should… _hate_ me, Papi!”  
“Don’t tell me what to feel, baby boy. Not even Daddy commands my feelings and I love you just as much as I want to, wich is one hell of a lot, sweetheart.”  
  
It was almost a little rough for being Ronea, but it seemed to snap Juice out of the fit, at least pause him for a moment. Ronea held him like a baby that wouldn’t stop crying, patiently just keeping him safe and steady while talking in a firm but very gentle voice.  
  
“I’m not saying I know what’s going on in that messy head of yours, my love, but I _do_ know the feeling of complete chaos quite well and you’re showing an awful lot of that right now, sweet boy. Now, what would be the logic in me or Daddy hating you for not feeling well?”  
  
Logic? Well, that wasn’t the way Filip would’ve addressed this. Hysterical people rarely responded to… or was it just the way he behaved with Juice? Suddenly, Filip was reminded of his time as a healthcare worker in the E.R. and how he’d dealt with patients that were either in severe pain, shock or panic, maybe delusional and sometimes even violent from stress and fear. The way the young Filip Telford had dealt with them, was, just as Ronea did now, with calm and logic. Juice was clearly having a breakdown that had been boiling inside him for some time, now suddenly raised to the surface and Ronea’s way of dealing with it, was absolutely right. At least the best to do right now.  
  
Filip didn’t want to overwhelm the lad further, so he let Ronea hold him and stayed with just stroking Juice’s hair and back.   
  
“S’alright, lil’ one. Papi’s right, how could we hate ye for feelings ye cannae control? Stop lovin’ ye jus’ because ye’re unwell? Tha’s not how love works, laddie.”  
”Shouldn’t _be_ here, Daddy!”  
”According to whom, Juicyboy? Me? Papi? Yerself? ’Cause I can safely say me an’ Papi _want_ ye here, no matter how ye’re feeling.”  
“That’s right, baby boy. I’ll even go as far as saying we _especially_ want you here when you’re not feeling well, because people who love each other, _care_ for each other.”  
  
Ronea was his saviour, seriously. Filip had no idea how he would’ve dealt with this without his husband guiding him. He thought about what Juice had said. The words he’d used.   
  
_I can’t do this. It’s not right. You should hate me. Shouldn’t be here.  
_  
Couldn’t do what? Be little as in wearing nappies and use bottles? That wasn’t a ground for their relationship, not at all, and even if it _had_ been, that rule would be changed instantly if Juice didn’t feel comfortable with it anymore. Their lover needed the babying now, because it redused his stress levels remarkably and would speed up his healing. Juice was sick and vulnerable, yes, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew he was getting better and had not protested at all once his stressed out brain had discovered it worked.  
  
No, this wasn’t about wanted humiliation turning unwanted, or even distress over necessary help. This was Juice’s imagined lack of self-worth speaking, telling him and his lovers that he wasn’t loved, didn’t deserve love and that Filip and Ronea soon would discover that and end their relationship. Filip could kick himself – and his husband too, to be honest – for not seeing these signs. They’d started their own bloody relationship on nothing short of a battlefield for fear and self-hatred. The only difference, was the source of those feelings and the way they displayed. Ronea had gone from being a mussle with a shiny shell, showing up a constant sunny side to protect himself, to an absolute wreck of anger, anxiety, terror and so much self-hatred he was blind and deaf to anyone and anything that didn’t agree with that darkness.  
  
Back then, after one failed attempt after another, Filip finally had reached through and Ronea opened up enough to save their relationship. When the man would believe he had the right to be listened to, which Juice clearly still didn’t. And one major difference now, was the fact that the relationship between Filip and Ronea had started very seriously, while the one between them and Juice, actually began with a game. A recrational roleplay, where all three of them were keenly aware of the rules and boundaries. They’d been doing this for over half a year now and while they’d never been able to meet more than twice a month, at most, Filip often found himself thinking of Juice in the same breath as his husband.   
  
He loved them both, Ronea loved Juice just as much. And Filip may not be the one to presume he knew other people’s feelings, not even Ronea’s, but Juice’s acceptance of the care, the intimacy and the way he obviously blossomed from it, how he thrived from being treated with love and care… They’d not made love this time, for obvious reasons, but Filip trusted what he saw. When Juice felt good, when he felt safe and happy, even for a short moment, he looked at Ronea and Filip like they hung the moon.   
  
Seeing his husband and Juice so obviously, hopelessly in love with one another, was a truly beautiful thing and Filip knew Ronea saw the same between him and Juice as well. Problem was, as Filip now realised, Juice wasn’t shy or uncertain of his feelings towards _them_ , or afraid of loosing his independency. Their gorgeous, kind-hearted and insecure lover, was absolutely terrified of being alone and more than that: dead sure it would happen once Filip and Ronea discovered his ”bad” sides.  
  
_I can’t do this. It’s not right. You should hate me. Shouldn’t be here.  
_  
Because people had hurt their lil’ one. Their sweet darling had way worse things than a little shyness and lack of reasonable self-image that weighed him down and if Filip could have his way now, he’d simply move Juice into their home pemanently, but things were never that easy, even if you were the one in charge. Filip recalled more than one time in the past, when he’d wanted nothing more than having Ronea move in with him, to be there for him at all times, but his boyfriend had simply not been ready.   
  
With Juice, it was even more tricky, for a number of reasons. His needs were different and so were his fears. Also, they were three people involved in this and right now, the youngest of them was crying heartbreakingly and Filip hated seeing him so lost in pain and confusion. This wasn’t a problem to be solved by one person taking a final decision, with the other one simply obeying out of trust. Filip moved a little closer, leaning over Juice’s shoulder.  
  
“Can Daddy hold ye, Juicy?”  
  
A sobbing nod and Filip pulled his lover close, gentle but firm. The lad all but hung onto him, heavy as a ragdoll despite the jacked up anxiety. He needed to feel grounded again and a spanking definitely wouldn’t do it this time. Filip rocked him a little, not really trying to make him stop crying because the lad probably needed to cry, but to remind him he wasn’t alone. It wasn’t the right time for the talk Filip wanted to have with him, but sometimes things didn’t go as planned. For example, when working the graveyard shift at the E.R. or finding a hungover muppet in your garden.  
  
Filip sighed. He fucking _had_ to talk now.  
  
”Darlin’… this wee arrangement of ours… I think I speak for all of us when I say it wasn’t really wha’ any of us planned. I cannae pinpoint the exact moment I started to want something more than jus’ some fun between the sheets with ye, Juice, but it happened relatively quickly an’ at first, I felt like I was betraying my husband for feeling the way I did. Yer Daddy was too caught up in his own emotions to realise _his_ husband already knew an’ had fallen for ye as well.”  
  
No answer or increased crying, which was good, because it meant the lad was listening. Filip kissed the damp neck.  
  
“Me an’ Papi, we both fell for ye, lovey. Sure, we’ve had occasional crushes, tha’s jus’ how the human brain works an’ we’ve had shared lovers as well, but we feel _very_ different with ye. Ye know one has to work things out way more careful when there’s a third person involved. T’is often difficult as it is with just two an’ when ye came along and turned out to be something way more serious than some roleplay fun, me an’ Papi weren’t really prepared for wha’ we’d feel for ye.”  
  
Still calm, thank God. Juice even seemed to breathe a little slower and with an encouraging nod from Ronea, Filip continued.  
  
“Lovey, we’ve dealt with some really deep shite in our lives an’ neither of us are wha’ ye could call open with tha’. We all know tha’ alcoholic das, rapist boyfriends an’ abusive foster parents aren’t really the first choice of a conversation topic when ye meet someone. Or even the tenth. The only reason I learned of Papi’s abuse tha’ early, was the fact tha’ we literally met in the E.R.”  
“And trust me, baby boy, I’d kept that a secret for a long time from lots of people.”  
“Just as I dinnae exactly share my childhood memories of da beating the shite outta me an’ maw with the bucket end of his belt.”  
  
He kissed Juice nape again.  
  
“We _never_ use items for discipline or sex, which are connected to those kind of shitty memories, Juice. No belts, no whips, no handcuffs and no ropes. We don’t have blindfolds, earmuffs or anything sensory depriving. An’ we never _ever_ have drunken or high sex.”  
  
He swallowed.  
  
“We’ve been perhaps overly careful when it comes to our feelings for ye, Juice. It’s… I cannae stress enough how important true consent is to us. We dinnae wannae, for lack of a better word, drag ye into something tha’ ye may or may not actually feel for us. The way me an’ Papi live, is so radically different, even compared to how many of our accquaintances is the BDSM community live, so ye understand we needed to show ye our way of living little by little.”  
“If we’d told you that I’m a homemaker, thriving on boundaries and obedience out of bed that first morning, you’d probably fled the breakfast table, baby boy.”  
  
Juice huffed.  
  
“Probably.”  
“An’ how ‘bout now, lovey? Ye wannae run away from us? Because ye have tha’ choice, Juice. Whatever form our relationship has, it’s always about consent. Tha’s the key.”  
“I… I know, Daddy.”  
“So why then, laddie, do ye think we should hate ye? Ye’ve killed someone?”  
“No…”  
“Raped anyone?”  
”No!”  
”Conracted HIV without telling us?”  
”Jesus Christ, Daddy! No!”  
”Planned on burning our house down?”  
  
Juice only glared at that, which was encouraging. Their lad hadn’t lost all sense of reason.  
  
“No? Alright, then. Ye’re into some scheme in order to steal Papi from me, or me from Papi?”  
“Are you nuts?!”  
  
Oh, this was good. Juice was rude now, which was exactly what he needed. To get out of the submission for a moment, to have a look at himself and his lovers. Filip kept a neutral face and kept going, still petting Juice’s back.  
  
“Ye’ve found someone else an’ is afraid to tell us?”  
“You can’t be fucking serious!”  
  
This wasn’t _little_ Juicy talking. This was their very grown-up lover who called bullshit on things that were, indeed, bullshit. The questions must’ve shocked him enough, along with the emotional exhaustion from the outburst, for Juice to get out of the self-hating bubble, if only for now. He looked at Filip now, anger showing in the midst of everything else and Filip stroke his cheek.  
  
“There ye are. There’s the man in my husband’s Daisy Days… The man Filip an’ Ronea fell for. Does he still want _us_?”  
  
Juice opened his mouth, then closed it, opened it again, but he couldn’t seem to get a word out of it. He just nodded, lips still half-parted and his weary eyes were huge and reddish. Now Ronea put a hand onto his head, looking at their lover.  
  
“You want to get well, baby boy? To be healthy, strong and be our _lover_ again?”  
“Yes.”  
  
It was a tiny voice, but more tired than submissive. Ronea stroke a thumb over Juice’s hair.  
  
“So do we, Juicy. But until that’s possible, we’d like for you to let us help you. And not just by obeying us, but by allowing yourself that help. To realise we do this not out of pity or charity or whatever, but because Daddy would do the same for me and I for him, if needed to. We want you to heal, baby boy, but neither of us want you to leave.”  
“Which we really dinnae plan to tell ye, lovey.”  
  
Filip made a grimaze.  
  
“It jus’ doesn’t feel right to come stomping in with our feelings an’ wishes righ’ now, Juicy, ’cause it can confuse ye an’ make it about us, when it’s about ye.”  
“What Daddy’s trying to say, baby boy, is that we’re really terrified of putting any pressure on you when it comes to our relationship, when you’re clearly not fit to make a free decision.”  
  
Juice had something hopeless over his features, much as he’d given up on something, but Filip couldn’t tell what. His lad wasn’t quite as tense now, the exhaustion took it’s toll on him and he let out an exasperated sigh.  
  
“I’ve… I’ve never had anything like this. You, our relationship, this house… The way you live, it’s… You think it’s scaring me away, but it’s just the opposite and that’s… It scares the living shit outta me.”  
  
Ronea took their lad’s hand.  
  
“Because you think you’re intruding, that you’re not worthy of this and that sooner or later, we’ll grow tired of sharing our life with you and leave you longing for things other people have told you that you can’t have. That me and Daddy somehow have missed some horrible personal traits of yours that we, as soon as we get to know you better, will discover and then regret that we wasted any time and feelings on you and kick you out of our lives?”  
  
Filip was honestly shocked. Not at the discovery of their lovers feelings, but by the blunt way Ronea addressed them. But just as he braced himself for another wave of tears and shudders from his lad, Juice’s tension left, as if he’d finally put down a burden he’d carried around for far too long. He looked so exhausted, drained out really, but he was limp and the tears kept falling, only calm this time.  
  
Their lover had spoken, finally, and Filip somehow knew that this was all that would be said. At least for now.


	63. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More deep talking, mostly from Daddy's side.

”Was barely 23 an’ out with my mates in Glasgow. We were all pretty wasted, but then… we always were whenever we went out. Worked nights as a hall porter on some fancy hotel, trying to save money for a Harley.”  
  
Daddy spoke softly, almost a mumble. It was only the two of them right now, Papi being off on an evening walk and Juice had cuddled up to a ball in Daddy’s arms, listening to _his_ story.  
  
“Had my own place, of course. Da kicked me out when I turned eighteen. His idea of a birthday gift, I guess, an’ in a way I’m grateful. Anyway… I dropped out of school early an’ took whatever jobs that turned up an’ had my fair share o’ shags. But being good with cars an’ bikes was my saving, in a way.”  
“When did you move to Cali?”  
“When the shop I worked at went bankrupt an’ my boss Mr. Reid, a good man, bless his soul, wrote a letter o’ reckommendations to a wee, newly started firm called Teller-Morrow, owned by some ol’ friends o’ his, Clay Morrow an’ John Teller. They’re both long gone now, heart failure an’ a nasty bike accident, bless their souls, but long story short, I got a working visas, shipped my pale arse off to Cali an’, well, the rest is history. But we’re running too quickly. The scars…”  
“What about them, Daddy?”  
“Well, I got’em that night, when I was out drinking in Glasgow. Ran into a bastard who thought I was hitting on his lass. He had a really good knife an’ unfortunately a good aim as well. Was in a hospital for a rather long time an’ God, I _hated_ my looks.”  
  
He made a small grimaze.  
  
“Ye know, I started drinking too much after tha’. Jus’… I felt so goddamn ugly an’ miserable, my maw would cry if she saw me an’ da just kept telling me how I had myself to blame. Spent some pretty dark months jus’ unable to accept wha’ had happened an’ I couldna even get back on the bastard ‘cause I couldna remember his ugly face. My boyfriend at the time got tired o’ my self-loathing, an’ I guess my facial ulcerating dinnae exactly help either. Long story short, I was bloody miserable, lonely an’ the only time I felt good was when I drank or rode or worked with bikes.”     
“How was it, Daddy? When you came to Cali?”  
  
Now Daddy laughed.  
  
“Jesus Christ, Juicy, ye should’ve heard me back then! Ye think my accent is thick now, aye?”  
“Pretty, yeah.”  
“Well, my first week at Teller-Morrow, John, Clay an’ Tig seriously thought about getting dictionaries! Clay refused to even send me out on errands, ‘cause he wouldna trust custormers or business partners to understand a word. He dinnae care one bit ‘bout the scars though. An’ Papi wasn’t scared off by them either…”  
“Cause you’re freaking hot, Daddy. Tha’s why.”

And he had no problems picturing how he must’ve looked to Papi. It was soothing and inviting, listening to Daddy telling bits of his youth, and the troubles he’d faced. He was scarred for life, yes, but it didn’t stop him from living. And at fortynine, he was positively pretty. Papi was four years younger and just as gorgeous. Daddy nuzzled Juice’s hair.  
  
“Thank ye, lil’ one. Back then, I’m afraid I wouldna have listened to ye. Especially not since my da was busy reminding me how I’d never been shanked in the first place, had I not been a bloody fag.”  
“Well, old Mr. Telford wasn’t any better with logic than my old man, was he, baby?”  
“Not one bit, lovey. I actually think they could’ve been pretty good mates, ye know, bonding over their faggy sons an’ all.”  
  
Daddy pressed  kiss at Juice’s temple.  
  
“I’m telling ye all this, to have ye know I understand a wee bit about being lonely an’ miserable. Not feeling welcome anywhere, really. Not comparing it to yer childhood an’ youth, lovey, or Papi’s, but I wan’ ye to know tha’ jus’ because I’m strict an’ not as good with emotions as Papi – don’ gimme tha’ look, Ronea, ye know wha’ I mean – it doesn’t mean I don’t care, jus’ tha’ Papi is better seeing an’ figuring out this kinda’ stuff than me.”  
“You keep thinking that, baby, if it makes you feel better. Now, go on with the story.”  
“Ye’re the one leadin’ me astray!”  
“If you say so, hon.”  
  
Daddy rolled his eyes.  
  
“Well, ‘bout the scars, lovey, for a long time I felt so down by’em, I was convinced no one would ever look at me again, unless to have a look at the freakshow. Felt ugly, pathetic an’ miserable. Wasn’t until a couple o’ years later tha’ I came to terms with the way I looked, unknowlingy actually, since I was saving money for a plastic surgery. The doc who’d treated me back in Glasgow was good an’ one o’ the nurses mentioned tha’ sometimes it could help to recover, ye know, mentally, by helping others dealing with trauma. Which is how I ended up working as a nurses assistant, getting a basic medical education tha’ made me qualified for doing volunteer shifts at the E.R., something I continued with when I moved to Cali.”  
“And then you met Papi.”  
“Aye.”  
  
Daddy looked at Papi, smiliing although a bit sad.  
  
“Guess I have tha’ bastard outside the club to thank for meeting the first love o’ my life. But trust me, Juicy, it took a _very_ long for me to come to terms with my face. Suffered from PTSD, even though I dinnae understand it back then. Had it not been for the club an’ the volunteer job, I’m pretty sure I would’ve ended up a bitter drunk, probably dying early on from liver failure, drunk driving or even suicide.”  
“You wouldn’t be that weak, Daddy.”  
“Weak?”  
  
Now Papi rose his eyebrows.  
  
“Baby boy, having a severe crisis aint weakness. Had I not met Daddy when I did, there’s a good chance I would’ve been six feet under too now. Either from being beaten to death by my ex or by suicide.”  
  
Daddy stroke Juice’s hair, looking at him with his calm, dark eyes.  
  
“Ye think ye’re weak for wanting someone in yer life who loves ye, laddie. Ye think me an’ Papi don’ know how tha’ feels like, tha’ we’ve never felt small, lonely an’ insecure? Tha’ we’ve never had people telling us we dinnae deserve good things in life?”  
  
Juice couldn’t really answer that, but it felt like he didn’t really need to. Daddy and Papi already knew, already understood. Daddy put a hand under his chin.  
  
“Juicy, do ye think Papi was weak for calling me after we met at the E.R. an’ I’d given him my number? Ye think he should’ve tossed it in the trashcan an’ pretended he dinnae need anyone to talk to?”  
“No, Daddy.”  
“An’ wha’ about me? As I started doin’ volunteer work at the hospital, I also went to a therapy group for victims of attacks on the streets. Robbery, assaults, sexual harrassement, all the list. Tha’s how I finally learned I wasn’t weak or destroyed for being attacked, a knowledge I then used to help, first the patients an' then Papi.”  
“And I’ve never seen him without them scars, baby boy. To us, there’s no Filip and Ronea _before_ our scars, Juice. We literally met dealing with some of them.”  
  
Papi huffed now, but also smirking.  
  
“Meeting your future husband at the hospital, let me tell you, is way less romantic than people are lead to believe by gooey romance novels, sweetheart.”  
“Not to mention them bloody hospital soap operas… Christ almighty, I _hate_  fucking _ER_ an’ _Grey’s Anatomy_.”  
  
The disdain in Daddy’s voice was so clear, both Juice and Papi cracked up. Juice still had tears in his eyes, but he felt lighter, despite the grave subject of discussion. Somehow, things didn’t feel quite as frightening anymore, even though it was horrible things his lovers had been through.  
  
Juice curled up firmer to Daddy and pulled Papi closer as well. He wanted to comfort them, to tell them the things they told him when he felt down. He was too frayed and tired, though, and perhaps he didn’t have to speak.  
  
Daddy put an arm around Papi and sort of closed himself around both of them, protective and strong. Without having to ask for it, Juice got the pacifier back, Papi putting it in his mouth to soothe him. Juice wouldn’t say he was ready to open up much more now, or even in a near future, but by putting their own, albeit passed, weaknesses on display like this, Papi and Daddy had made _his_ a little easier to bear. At least if didn’t have to do it all alone.


	64. Ronea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papi digs deep for his baby boy... TW: descriptions of past abuse.

It hurt. Some wounds never fully healed and those caused by Aaron Weston belonged to them. More than anything, Ronea wanted to be strong for his young lover, as Filip had been.  
  
“I was… seventeen when I met Aaron. I’d never had a real boyfriend before, just a few hook-ups and, well… I guess one could say I got totally hooked on having this big, army looking guy, really super masculine albeit eight inches shorter than me.”  
  
He smiled at Juice, trying to ease up the severity a bit.  
  
“I think that was the first thing he didn’t like with me. The fact that I was so much taller. He, uhm… once when I got a new pair of high heels I’d saved for a long time,he ran’em over with his car.”  
“What?”  
  
No smile now, it was simply impossible. Ronea couldn’t remember the story sounding this awful the first time. But that was more than twenty years and a lot of fucking therapy ago. He forced himself to smile again, knowing it didn’t really work.  
  
“Aaron was an abuser, baby boy. Controlling, violent, jealous and thin-skinned. Slightest thing could set him off, but you know, the thing with that kind of abusers is that they don’t show that side at first. No… Aaron was sweeping me off my feet at first. We met at a bar, I was drunk as hell and stumbled right into him. Before he could smash my face in, I smiled and asked ‘is it me you’re looking for’, or something equally corny. He laughed, helped me sit down and actually brought me water.”  
  
It was painful, remembering how sweet it had started.  
  
“I liked that he was really buff, you know. Made me feel protected, safe… At first.”  
“When… when did it change, Papi?”  
  
His sweet baby boy had a very serious look on his beautiful face and Ronea thought about how he really should tell him how good a listener he was. Instead, he felt his own smile hurt a bit.  
  
“It… it changed after a few months. At first, it was small things. Comments, temper tantrums, critique. I laughed too loud, talked too much, had a bad breath. I didn’t shower often enough, or I spent too much time showering. I fussed with my cat, couldn’t cook, was lazy for wasting time working at a library.”  
  
He swallowed.  
  
“He didn’t say it all the time, of course. Like many abusers, he would show a sweeter side afterwards, even dote on me, saying he didn’t mean to be so angry, but I made him loose control. That was his main thing… saying I made him loose control. _I love you, Ronnie, so why do you have to make me mad at you all the time?_ ”  
“Ronnie?”  
“He thought Ronea sounded too gay.”  
  
Filip snorted at that and Ronea rolled his eyes, patting Juice’s hand.  
  
“Logic never was his strong suit. Prefered to use his fists.”  
“He beat you, Papi?”  
“Beat, whipped, kicked… raped.”  
  
It came out so easily. Like swallowing too much air too quickly, leaving a sharp pain in the throat and chest.  
  
“He… when I broke up with him, he…”  
“Baby... Ronea, lovey, ye don’ have to…”  
  
His husband, his saviour. The one who’d set the boundaries when Ronea couldn’t. But not this time. Ronea took a deep breath and nodded.  
  
“I do, baby. I have to tell him. It’s the past and it can’t hurt me no more.”  
  
But it did. The first years, even after the therapy sessions had ended and Ronea could function so much better, feeling safe and happy in the marriage, there’d been days when he would crumble from a painful memory. Still, there were fragments left from the trauma that had shattered him,  still sharp enough to cause pain when coming too close to the wound.  
  
“Papi? What… what did he do when you left him?”  
“He… he cut my hair off. Broke my fingers… Raped me and… and killed… he…”  
  
He’d made such an effort ever since starting the story, not to loose his strenght. Ronea didn’t want his old wounds to overshadow Juice’s needs now, but the memories were too difficult to keep in a leash with his sweet boy’s reaction, the utter horror on his beautiful face.  
  
“He killed my cat.”


	65. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All three boys are exhausted, but safe.

His strong, dominant lovers. Vulnerable, wounded. _Weak._ No, not weak. Juice held Papi’s hand and without thinking about it, he pulled the man into his arms. Like he, the boy, was the strong one. A part of him wondered if he was supposed to talk now, as Daddy and Papi had, but all Juice wanted, or felt he could do, was to hold onto them.  
  
Daddy had a slight look of surprise as Juice wrapped his arms around Papi, cradling him in a way they usually did with him, the _little_ one. It was a truly increadible thing they’d done for him tonight. There was no rule forcing them to open up like this to him, they’d done this for him, telling about memories that were painful to them, especially Papi.They’d done it to make him feel safer with them, less ashamed and Juice was too grateful to form suitable words. He just nuzzled Papi’s neck, reaching for Daddy’s shoulders with his hands, cradling his head too.  
  
“Lads… How about we move upstairs, aye?”  
  
Daddy spoke very softly and it was a question, but Juice immediately felt the need to obey. As did Papi. The man let out a small, almost moaning sigh.  
  
“Baby, please…?”  
“I know, lovey, I know…”  
  
Whatever it was that Daddy knew, it didn’t seem to be addressed directly, just soothed. He kissed Papi’s forehead and took Juice’s hand.  
  
“Juicyboy, come to Daddy. I’ll carry ye. Time for bed, for all of us, I think.”  
  
Juice didn’t protest, even if a part of him believed that maybe he was a bit too heavy for Daddy to carry upstairs. Also, he didn’t want to leave Papi on the couch. As if the man could read his mind, Papi stroke his cheek, smiling.  
  
“Daddy will come for me once you’re upstairs, baby boy. Just be a good boy and let Daddy carry you, okay?”  
“Yes, Papi.”  
“Good boy.”  
  
Papi gave him a small kiss on the cheek and then Daddy, easy as if no cracking joints in the world bothered him, took Juice in his arms and walked upstairs. He walked into the bedroom and lowered Juice on the bed, stroking his hair.  
  
“It’s been a very long day for ye, lil’ one. I’m so proud o’ ye, Juicy. Papi’s never opened up ‘bout his ex with anyone but me an’ the therapist he saw our first year as a couple.”  
“You’re the only one who knew, Daddy?”  
  
Daddy nodded.  
  
“Ye remember when we spoke about yer foster da an’ my old man?”  
“Uh-huh.”  
“When I accidently sent ye into a panic attack for asking ‘bout abuse?”  
“I remember, Daddy.”  
“Ye also recall wha’ I told ye ‘bout yerself, laddie?”  
“Not really.”  
  
Daddy stroke his cheek now and there was a sad smile on his face.  
  
“I told ye tha’ ye give yerself way too little credit when it comes to yer ability to be a support for others. The way ye’re accepting Papi, respecting his boundaries an’ feelings, listening to him… To me, as his husband, it’s a very huge thing to experience. Tha’ means my first love, for the first time since opening up to me twenty years ago, feels safe with another person.”  
“I… I didn’t mean to c-come between you, Daddy.”  
”Nonono, lil’ one! Don’ ye see, Juicy? I’m not angry or jealous, I’m _grateful_. An’, despite all the horrible things we’ve talked about tonight, I’m happy too.”  
“Why?”  
“Because it means both o’ my loves are less lonely now. It means tha’ _I’ve_ done something right as well, tha’ the boundaries, rules and discipline aren’t breaking yer spirits or locking ye up inside.”  
  
Juice managed to put a heavy hand on Daddy’s cheek too, touching the scar with his thumb.  
  
“You’re the… best lover I’ve ever had, Daddy. Papi too, of course. But you’re… you’re carrying us…”  
  
There were many things he wanted to say, but couldn’t form. He was so tired and Papi was waiting downstairs. Daddy patted the hand still lingering by his scar.  
  
“I’ll go get Papi, lil’ one.”  
  
Juice watched him leave, but felt no loss, no insecurity. Which was strange, considering all the things they’d talked about. A few moments later, he heard Daddy’s steps in the stairs again and he walked in with Papi in his arms. It was a sight that had Juice’s heart flutter, because Papi looked so vulnerable yet completely safe. He was exhausted, yes, but not worried or afraid. Anything but ashamed. Years of love had built that trust and Juice thought he’d never looked more beautiful. Daddy lowered him on the bed too and Papi managed to actually sit up. He nudged Daddy.  
  
“Could you change our baby boy, love? I think I can manage to get my make-up off.”  
“Of course, lovey.”  
  
Daddy’s voice was so soft now and Juice came to think about how Papi sounded more raspy. It was a contrast to their roles and Juice had always liked it. His lovers’ marriage had never been about playing a game or suppressing parts of themselves. Everything they were, together and separately, had a place in this strange, deep relationship.  
  
As Daddy helped him with the diaper, which Juice didn’t even think about right now and definitely didn’t feel ashamed of, he felt strangely awake despite the weariness. He closed his eyes, not to shut Daddy out, but to see the image of him and Papi behind the eyelids.  
  
His mind formed pictures put together from both his Daddie’s stories this night, but also from things they’d told him before. The view of Daddy carrying Papi in his arms, turned into one of a much younger Daddy, coming to a small and fragile Papi’s rescue twenty years ago. Of course, it wasn’t how it had happened and perhaps it was silly and childish of his brain to pitcure Daddy as something akin to a knight in shining armour with Papi as the damsel in distress, but he couldn’t control his thoughts.  
  
Seeing Daddy actually carry Papi in his arms didn’t remind of sappy romance or even a sick man needing his stronger partner to help him. This wasn’t sweet, cuddly or romantic. It was necessity and absolute trust. This was Filip Telford doing what he’d done, sometimes literally but mostly figuratively, for more than twenty years. Sometimes the knight, albeit in jeans, leather and muddy boots, but mostly he was the squire, or the guard. Squires wore no shining armours, they looked after others. Guards kept watch in bad weather on late hours, to make others sleep calm and feel safe. This one didn’t carry weapons, he changed diapers, helped undressing and brushing an exhausted lover’s teeth.  
  
“There ye go, Juicy. All set for bed.”  
  
Sweet kisses, clean sheets and warm blankets. Soft words. Daddy was strict but never ever hard. The rinsed pacifier mixed with the minty toothpaste taste and Juice curled up to his usual roll as Daddy tucked him in.  
  
“Gonnae get myself ready too, lil’ one. Papi’s coming soon.”  
  
But Juice nuzzled closer.  
  
“Please… Daddy… Stay?”  
  
He felt so safe, but couldn’t stand the thought of being alone, even if Daddy and Papi were literally only feets away and would join him soon. Daddy was sitting on the bedend and Juice leaned onto his thigh.  
  
“Alright, laddie. We’ll wait for Papi.”  
   
This was why Daddy’s strictness could never be truly scary. Why it felt good and right to let him decide, to receive spankings and lectures from him. Daddy was always, primarly, the protector. Juice felt the sleep creep up on him and he nuzzled Daddy’s leg.  
  
“Daddy?”  
“Aye, darlin’?”  
“If… if I’m afraid of… what we talked about tomorrow… If I can’t… If I pretend it didn’t happen… will you still love me?”  
  
A small sound that almost sounded like a sob, reached through Juice’s barely awake mind and he felt whiskers brushing on his ear.  
  
“More than ye’ll ever know, my strong, wee lad… More than ye’ll ever know…”


	66. Filip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daddy can't sleep and finds out about his husband's plans.

For once, doing household work didn’t seem like an intrusion on his husband’s turf. Filip quietly did the dishes, wiped off the table and work surfaces and swept the floor. Ronea would ask him about it tomorrow, but he’d understand. Filip couldn’t sleep yet and had to do something to wind down and collect himself. Leaving the bed and take to the kitchen was the first thing he could think of.  
  
They’d not addressed Juice’s past tonight, but Filip’s and Ronea’s. It wasn’t what Filip initally had intended to, neither Ronea, but it hadn’t been for their sake, to overshadow Juice’s needs, but to find a way for him to realise it was safe to talk about them. Filip poured himself a small scotch and walked outside to have a smoke.  
  
Next to the pack of smokes in his cut, was the small box containing not a ring this time, but a set of keys with a shamrock holder. They’d planned on giving them tonight, but maybe it was good they hadn’t. Too much emotions to deal with as it was already and the key wouldn’t grow legs and wander off. That reminded him: his husband had something he wanted to discuss too. Nothing unpleasant, he’d assured that and Filip trusted him.   
  
He pulled some much needed nicotine down his lungs. At heart, Filip was a softie and he knew it. This need he had to care for his loved ones, take responsibility for them and their decisions, was a trait he once had connected with being a controlling arsehole. He like being obeyed, yes, but only when he knew that the outcome would be good for Ronea and Juice. It was a trust that constantly had to be proven worthy and the evaluation of how it worked, was the amount of happiness they felt from it. How much of their troubles they felt free and safe to share with their dominant partner.  
  
Filip recalled his second year as married, how Ronea had spent most of it pushed and pulled between his grief over Aaron, the guilt for mourning him at all and how Filip had heard him crying behind the bathroom door in the apartment they had while saving for the house.  
  
It had been so hard, hearing his husband cry day and night and Filip had talked to Venus, asking her what he didn’t dare to ask Ronea: why mourn someone who made your life hell? Tig’s old lady, who referred to herself as “a man who knows she’s a woman”, had poured Filip a drink and explained how it felt, not being able to hate your abuser. When said abuser was your partner, it was awful enough as it was, she’d said in her low, soft voice, but when it was your own mother pimping you out for kiddy porn and you still couldn’t hate her, it was a whole other area of fucked up.   
  
_Let him grief for as long as he needs, shortbread. The best you can do for him, is to just love and hold him, letting him know you’re not judging his feelings, ‘cause he’s probably doing that enough as it is on his own. Can’t argue with grief, baby. Trust me, I’ve tried.  
  
_ Not taking Ronea’s grief personal, was a hard lesson to learn, but after a seemingly endless time of crying, one day when Filip came home from work, Ronea’s eyes weren’t reddish and he’d started on a new embroidery, making small shamrocks on their kitchen towels. When they’d been too old to use, Ronea wanted to throw them away but Filip had refused and saved them in his own drawer. Since moving into the house, they had their place in one of the kitchen drawers, but weren’t used.  
  
Filip finished the smoke and went back to the kitchen. He found the small stash of old towels, took one and shook it out. It really looked old and was miscoloured from years of use. The small shamrock had been bleached in the wash but the stitches were so well done the pattern hadn’t loosen.  
  
He folded it again and as he put it back, he looked up, stucking his gaze on the whiteboard with Ronea’s weekly schedule – and Filip’s too. There was something attached with a small magnet and Filip went up to look.   
  
A receipt for paint and beneath it three coupons for it. Paint? Filip scowled at the piece of paper, trying to recall what in the world they needed paint for. Nothing in the house needed repainting and if it did, these coupons wasn’t even covering the brand on the receipt. What in the world could…?  
  
Oh.   
  
_Oh_ , _but of course!_  
  
Filip smiled to himself, almost chuckling as he realised how well they knew each other, him and his seemingly distracted and secretive husband. Like the bloody muppets they were, they’d shared the same “secret” that wasn’t even a secret, only not discussed yet because of all the other things they’d had to deal with. While Filip had wondered if Ronea would agree with what was one of very few big decisions Filip hadn’t discussed with him without deciding, his husband already knew and instead of simply telling about it, he’d decided to do exactly the same as Filip and simply wait.  
  
The sound of the wind rattling one of the slightly opened windows, caught Filip’s attention and he closed it, turned the lights off and walked back upstairs. When he was done in the bathroom, he went into the bedroom where his husband and lover laid snuggled up together. Filip gave Ronea a soft kiss on the nape, whispering:  
  
“Love ye.”  
  
His husband didn’t wake up, only mumbled in his sleep and Filip went to his own side, laying down while trying to unfold the blankets Juice had hogged as his other human “blanket” hadn’t been there. The lad moved a little in his sleep, a soft whine slipping out and Filip gently brushed his arm.  
  
“S’alright, lil’ one. Daddy’s here…”  
  
Juice soon settled again, now firmly tucked between his lovers and his breathing was calm and deep. Filip’s heart swelled in his chest from all his husband and lad made him feel. He put his arm around them and went to sleep.


	67. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juice doesn't want to let go of Papi and Daddy is spilling the beans...

Letting go of Papi this morning was difficult. Juice was barely awake when the man started to get up and in his still partly sleeping mind, he couldn’t understand why the warm chest he nuzzled had to leave.   
  
“Baby boy, it’s morning and Papi’s gotta make breakfast.”  
“Papi… stay…”  
“Sweetheart, Papi can’t make his boys breakfast if he’s locked in bed.”  
  
He still didn’t want to let go and felt a soft rumble behind him.  
  
“Juicyboy, it’s alright… Come to Daddy, lil’ one. Where’s his pacifier, lovey?”  
“I’ll go rinsing it.”  
  
Juice still whined a little when Papi left, but Daddy spooned him and tucked him in his arms. Papi came back with the pacifier, stuck it in his mouth and Juice started sucking, feeling relaxed again. Papi kissed his forehead and tucked the blankets a little firmer around him, with a small chuckle.  
  
“Papi’s baby boy is a snuggle bug.”  
“Want Papi too…”  
“After breakfast, my little love. You ever had crumpets with soy cream and blackberries before?”  
“Haven’t… Papi…”  
“Then today is the first time. Try and get a little more sleep now, sweetheart. It’s Saturday so you can keep Daddy all to yourself until breakfast.”  
  
That sounded like a very good idea, actually and Juice nuzzled almost hard into the bend of Daddy’s arm. He loved the scent of the man and the feeling of his strong body lined along his own. Literally having his back. Getting back to sleep didn’t seem possible though and Juice felt a small kiss on his nape.  
  
“How are ye feeling today, lad?”  
“Not sure yet, Daddy.”  
“Slept well?”  
“Think so, Daddy. Feels like… I’ve slept longer.”  
“Ye have, lovey. Was a pretty intense day for ye. For all of us.”  
  
Juice tensed, remembering parts of the talking and Daddy brushed his arm.  
  
“Wha’s the matter, Juicy? Ye’re uncomfortable ‘bout yesterday?”  
“Yeah… Yes, Daddy.”  
“Ye don’ wannae stay with us?”  
  
As if turning on a tap, Juice started crying. His emotions were all over the place but Daddy just kept cuddling him, unbothered by the outburst.  
  
“S’alright, lad. Ye go ahead an’ cry if ye need to. No more bottling things up, lovey.”  
“C-can’t talk about it, Daddy.”  
“Shh, Juicy. Ye don’ have to talk now. Did a lot o’ tha’ yesterday, so there’s nothing wrong with just letting it rest a little if ye need to. Don’ have to explain anything, lil’ one, or apologise for yer feelings or tears. Daddy an’ Papi love ye to the moon an’ back an’ we’ll never ever leave ye.”  
  
Maybe they wouldn’t. For the first time, despite being nothing but emotionally drained, Juice truly believed that. But staying with them, as in _staying_ for real…?  
  
“You have your own lives though, Daddy…”  
“Aye, so do ye.”  
  
Juice sucked a little harder on the pacifier.  
  
“Can’t just… occupy your bed all the time, Daddy. ‘Cause you’re married and… and I’m used to…”  
“Have a little more space?”  
“Something like that.”  
  
Daddy kissed his forehead and then moved a little so they could face each other. He looked so beautiful, Juice couldn’t help but notice, even in the midst of tears and worry.  
  
“Juicyboy, Daddy’s an’ Papi’s house may not be a mansion, but it’s big an’ we don’ even use all of it. There’s plenty o’ place for another bed – an’ another man.”  
  
Juice just stared at him, gaping so much he actually dropped the pacifier. It didn’t look like Daddy was joking, not at all, and deep down, Juice knew his lover would never tease him about something like this. Thirty plus years of the opposite didn’t wash away that easily, though and Juice felt a pang of worry, biting his lip.  
  
“I… I don’t know what to say, Daddy.”  
“Then don’ say anything, lovey.”  
“H-have you talked to Papi?”  
“Well, no, but I’ve known that man for twentyfour years, Juicyboy. While we both prefer to talk openly an’ not walk around guessing wha’ the other one’s thinking an’ feeling, sometimes two people’s minds jus’… unknowingly think like one.”


	68. Ronea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daddy and Papi have a much needed talk.

“Lovey?”  
“Yes, hon?”  
“We really ought to stop pretending we can keep secrets from each other.”  
  
Ronea turned around from the stack of crumpets on the stove. His husband had his teasing frown, the one he usually got when thinking either himself, Ronea or both of them, were just plain silly. He went closer and swirled his arms around Ronea.  
  
“Which color do ye think he’ll want, baby?”  
“What?”  
  
For a moment, Ronea felt like he’d been disobedient and caught trying to hide it, but Filip kissed his neck and rubbed his arms.  
  
“I found out while ye were asleep, lovey an’ it’s a wonderful idea. As a matter o’ fact… I’ve almost been afraid to ask ye, thinking ye might not like it.”  
“How did you find out and what, baby?”  
“Ye’ve saved coupons for painting Juice’s room.”  
“Oh, God…”  
“Or am I wrong?”  
“No… No, you’re not wrong, but…”  
  
He felt like he’d been trying overrule or lie to his husband and that was the most awful feeling Ronea knew of. He swallowed.  
  
“Baby, I… I can explain, I didn’t mean to break any rules, I just…”  
“Hey, lovey, don’ rile yerself up, please. Ye’ve not broken any rules, at least no more than I have. I’ve… I’ve been thinking for weeks now how to make this suggestion to ye an’ Juice an’… having the key made an’ all… I jus’ wasn’t sure ye’d be into the idea.”  
“Please, I can’t take anything but a straight out explanation right now, Filip.”  
“Ye’re making a room for Juice ‘cause ye’d like for him to move in with us for real, right?”  
  
Keeping secrets was bad enough. Lying to his husband wasn’t even an option and Ronea nodded. Instead of the sigh he’d been prepared for, Filip kissed him on the lips, smiling.  
  
“Don’ even think about getting punished for this, lovey, ‘cause I just told Juice we want him to stay.”  
“You did what?”  
“Was it wrong of me?”  
“No! I mean, Jesus, Filip, how did he…? What did he say?!”  
“Well, he was shocked, of course, an’ I dinnae get a straight answer from him, but I think I know him well enough by now, to trust wha’ I can sense. He wants it, lovey, I’m certain.”  
“I wanted to wait until he could, you know, express it without us probing him to.”  
  
Filip rubbed his arms again, reassuring.  
  
“Me too, Ronea, but I don’ think he’d ever dare to tell us. At least not for a very long time an’ by then, maybe it’s, not too late, but he could get much worse.”  
“Juice isn’t good on his own…”  
“No, he’s not…”  
  
It was a decision for all three of them and Ronea knew that, but he still needed more. He searched for Filip’s hand, entangling fingers together.  
  
“I know we’re both Juice’s tops, but it’ll take time to adjust. I’m not a natural top, you know.”  
“Ye are with Juice.”  
“We’re gonna need to change things, though. Permanently. I know we’re more equal when it comes to Juice, but if this is gonna work, I can’t be in charge as much as I’ve been of late.”  
“Ye’ve felt like ye’ve been more in charge, lovey?”  
“I’m Juice’s top, so yeah, of course I’ve been. And to be perfectly honest, I’m not sure I can be strong enough for this unless I know I’m still nothing but a sub with you.”  
“Oh, lovey…”  
  
Filip hugged him harder, strong and protective, and Ronea melted into his arms.  
  
“I’d never ever put ye in a role ye’re not comfortable with, Ronea, an’ I’d never make a decision like this unless I thought we’d be able to work it out within our roles. I know I’m probably gonnae have to make some less popular decisions for us, things tha’ ye an’ Juice may not agree with, an’ tha’s gonnae be a challenge for me, but with yer support, lovey, I’m sure it’s gonnae work.”  
  
Ronea let out a small laughter.  
  
“You do realise it’s gonna be like having a teen in the house at first, right?”  
“How so?”  
“Readjusting to something new, even if it’s something you want, can be hard for anyone, and for Juice… He’s still so fragile and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s testing our decision for a long time.”  
“Why?”  
“Have you completely forgotten about _my_ personal crisis, baby?”  
“Which one? There were plenty, as I recall.”  
“And are you ready to deal with Juice’s? He’s not me and our problems don’t compare, at least not too much, but this could be a _really_ difficult time for all of us.”  
“Aye. But we’ve dealt with enough shite to know wha’ we’re capable o’ handling, haven’t we?”  
“Perhaps. And I simply love him too much to let go.”  
“Me too, darlin’. Me too.”  
“You’ll need to spank me soon, though. You know how I get when I feel like we’re slipping out of our roles, and I hate the feeling of secrets.”  
“I know, baby. I’ll spank ye tonight, I promise. An’ while I need both ye an’ the lil’ one to tell me how ye want things arranged, I’ll still be the one in charge, at least outside the kitchen.”


	69. Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the second last chapter of this piece, but the series aint over. "Unleash Me From My Darkness" will get a third story, exploring our boys' life together, once this part is ending with chapter 70.

Papi and Daddy looked positively sappy from the view at the stairs. Juice, who felt much more stable as soon as he was all cried out, had finished dressing himself this morning after Daddy had changed and washed him. His body, although still tired, stiff and sore, had become easier to handle now and that made him both relieved and worried.  
  
He remembered the talking from last night and Daddy had reassured him again this morning, but still… This was his lovers’ home and while it had several rooms, it wasn’t exactly huge. Not that Juice had much stuff to begin with. He wasn’t poor, absolutely not, he just wasn’t very interested in shopping unless he needed something. Apart from a decent collection of games and movies, his computor, tv and various video game consoles, his apartment consisted of a few furniture, the bearest amount of household stuff, a small wardrobe and some toiletries.  
  
It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford better, he made good money on his job, but he just didn’t see the need in making his place cozy and cooking varied meals for himself usually triggered binges or simply made him anxious and sad. It felt so hopelessly depressing, buying fresh, healthy stuff and then start cooking for himself, knowing there’d be no one else to share it with. More than once, he’d been forced to stop in the middle of cooking because he’d get so anxious. The loneliness got worse around things associated with _families_. Take-aways were a better option and over the years, Juice had managed to find lots of tasty and healthy options, but it was still depressing.  
  
Papi’s stack of crumpets, the bright kitchen and most of all the two men in it, was _home._ Juice hadn’t answered the question yet, not because he didn’t know what he wanted, but he just wasn’t sure if what he wanted was the right thing to do.  
  
“Juicyboy? How’s it going, lad?”  
  
Juice startled a little, blushing. Daddy came out from the kitchen with his calm, yet a little questioning look on his face.   
  
“S’okay, Daddy. A bit stiff, but I’m better.”  
“Aye? Look a lil’ hesistant.”  
  
Tears. Again. It was getting so fucking tiresome. Daddy pulled him close and Juice made a pitiful whimper into his chest.  
  
“Don’t know why I’m like this, Daddy. I’m sorry, I want nothing more than to stop…”  
“Shh. Ye’ve been through quite the emotional vice, Juicy. I know ye hate feeling like a see-saw, but we expect nothing less, laddie. As a matter o’ fact, I’m impressed ye’re even steady enough to come down for brekkie. Papi never would’ve.”  
“What gossip are you spreading now, Mr. Telford?”  
  
Papi’s sassy voice from the stove had Daddy chuckle and Juice couldn’t help but smile a little as well.   
  
“Jus’ telling Juicy ‘bout the times when ye dinnae make breakfast ‘cause ye were too exhausted to even get outta bed, lovey.”  
“Only one example of why expressions like ‘good ol’ times’ should be banned, I my opinion. Breakfast’s served,  boys.”  
  
Daddy kissed Juice’s crown and wiped his tears off with his thumbs.  
  
“Need some more talking before the crumpets, darlin’?”  
  
Juice sniffled, but the tears had actually stopped and he shook his head.  
  
“No, I… I think I’m good, Daddy. Jus’… a lot of things right now. Head’s a bit messy.”  
“No wonder. Ye’ve had some rough days, lovey.”  
  
In an instance, Juice knew exactly what he needed and he swallowed.  
  
“There’s another thing though, Daddy. That… I think I need before breakfast.”  
“An wha’s tha’, lovey?”  
“C-could you please spank me, Daddy?”  
  
Daddy pulled him away a bit to look at him.  
  
“Why do ye need a spanking right now, laddie? Have ye broken any rule today?”  
“No, Daddy.”  
“Then why?”  
  
Juice took a deep breath.  
  
“I… I don’t feel _bad_ bad, but messy bad, Daddy, and… and I know I’m gonna have a hard time eating if I don’t get this… whatever it is, off me before breakfast. _Please_ , Daddy? Take care of me, please…?”


	70. Filip/Juice/Ronea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here we go. Last chapter.

**Filip**  
Normally, he wouldn’t have done it. He’d already spanked his lad twice yesterday and that was more than enough. It was Filip’s job to know when enough was enough and not give in to pleadings for either getting out of earned spankings or getting more than was fair. This morning, how ever, Juice was on an emotional roller coaster that prevented him from settle and after last night’s – and the last week’s – display of emotions and the new plans for the future, the lad’s body and mind wouldn’t cooperate until he felt safe. The fact that Juice not only asked for it, but even expressed the reasons why he needed it, was a major progress and he deserved to be rewarded for that.  
  
Filip lead his young lover to the livingroom and closed the door. The lad’s shouders were tense, but it was difficult to tell if it was out of anxiety or anticipation.  
  
“Go sit on the couch, Juice.”  
“Yes, Daddy.”  
  
He didn’t use his stern chastisement voice, since this wasn’t that kind of spanking, but he did make it a little extra firm. He went to the cabinet and took out the small paddle. He looked at it and then he put it back, taking three other items, putting two of them in his hoodie pocket to keep hidden.  
  
Juice looked a little surprised, but the last weeks of care seemed to have made him more trusting. He didn’t ask anything, just looked at Filip with eyes that were pleading and worried, but not actually afraid. Filip sat down and stroke Juice’s hair.  
  
“I’m not punishing ye for anything, lovey, ‘cause ye’ve not done anything tha’ deserves a punishment now. Ye understand me, lad?”  
“Yes, Daddy. I… I’ve not been naughty.”  
  
That was a new one and Filip smiled at his brave lad.  
  
“Good boy, Juicy. _Good boy_. Pull yer pants and nappy down an’ bend over.”  
  
As his boy unbuckled his belt, Filip spread the towel over his lap, not telling why and when Juice had dropped his pants and settled into position, Filip pulled the nappy down. The red arse had been well-seasoned lately and Filip gave it a fond rub before taking to business.  
  
He kept a firm pace, not rushing because in Filip’s experience, the time space was as important as the spanking itself. If his boys didn’t feel relaxed and had his full attention, it didn’t work. Juice was crying, but not loud and Filip stopped.  
  
“Are ye holding back, kiddo?”  
“No, Daddy. P-please, don’t stop.”  
  
Juice squirmed a little and Filip realised what the issue was. He rubbed the glowing buttocks.  
  
“Tha’s what yer body needs, huh, Juicy?”  
“I… I didn’t know until now, Daddy. S-sorry, you want to stop?”  
”Not unless ye want to, darlin’. Been some time, hasn’t it?”  
“Yes, Daddy. I… I just…”  
  
Filip stroke Juice’s shoulders in a soothing circle.  
  
”Don’ be afraid, lovey. Tell Daddy wha’ ye need.”  
  
There was a moment of tension, but then Juice took a deep breath, relaxing again.  
  
“I… I need to come, Daddy. I really do.”  
  
  
**Juice**  
A part of him felt like he’d lured Daddy into this, but it was difficult to keep onto that kind of thought over his lover’s lap. His mind was frayed, but it felt like he had some kind of new clarity today. He could feel what he wanted, his body was struggling, yes, but not against him. Something had changed and although Juice couldn’t really put a name on it, the change felt good. He sighed.  
  
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I just… I didn’t know I’d feel like this, I promise.”  
“Why are ye feeling bad for it, then, lovey?”  
”Feels like I’ve… tricked you, Daddy.”  
“Juicy, I _know_ how yer body reacts to spankings. This aint the first time ye’re getting hard over my lap, laddie.”  
  
Daddy stroke his hair, tickled the nape of his neck and Juice shivered from it.  
  
“Ye an’ Papi react differently to this, lil’ one. I’m well aware o’ tha’ an’ I could tell ye needed this. If I’d not felt comfortable providing it, I would’ve stopped.”  
  
The husky voice was aphrodisiac and while he knew he couldn’t fuck yet, maybe not for a long time, or even partake in in _lovers’_ cuddles, his body wanted this and wanted it badly. The towel’s terry fabrics itched in a good way against his unruly cock and Juice realised something.  
  
“The towel… You put it there just in case, Daddy?”  
“Aye, laddie. I did.”  
“I’m a naughty boy, aren’t I, Daddy?”  
“Terribly naughty, lil’ one. Wha’ if I say ye cannae come?”  
  
A firm swat had Juice yelp and the sting went straight to his cock, fully swelling now. He’d not been this hard in a long time, not even in the bathtub with Daddy. His groin was aching now and unless Daddy put him in a chastity belt, there was no way to stop this. Juice swallowed.  
  
“P-please, Daddy, tell me who’s in charge.”  
“I’m in charge here, Juicy.”  
  
Another swat spread more heat inside him and he whined helplessly.  
  
“Daddy is the head o’ the house, lil’ one.”  
  
Two more.  
  
“I make the decisions for ye an’ Papi. I have final say in _all_ things, lovey, an’ spanking my husband an’ lover, is one o’ my most important tasks. Ye’re both accountable to me an’ ye’re to respect an’ obey me at all times, so I can care properly for ye.”  
  
Another two and Juice felt how he, instead of clenching to make it sting less, spread himself wider and almost tried to meet the blows. His cock was weeping and he got an inner picture of how, had his hole been a pussy, it would’ve been glistening wet now. He couldn’t help but whine and Daddy stopped.  
  
“Are ye alright, lad?”  
“Yes, Daddy.”  
“Ye’ve had a really hard time in the last weeks, haven’t ye, lovey?”  
“Yes, Daddy.”  
“My poor, wee lad… How’s yer butthole, lil’ one? An’ don’ even think o’ not telling the exact truth.”  
  
Juice relaxed, trying to ignore his cock and just feel his hole. The regular treatment with aloe as well as the use of diapers had definitely made it a lot less swollen. In fact, he’d not felt pain there for several days now.  
  
“It feels good, Daddy. Can’t take yet, I know that, but… maybe something smaller?”  
“I’m not sure, Juicyboy…”  
  
Daddy made a teasing circle around the entrance and Juice full-on whined.  
  
“Daddy, please! God, I need this… need this so badly, Daddy, I can’t even… S’been so long, Daddy, I jus’ _need you_.”  
“Shh, lovey, take a deep breath. There ye go, nice an’ easy, lad. Ye know wha’… Daddy’s gonnae give ye wha’ ye need, lil’ one. My sweet Juicyboy… Jus’ relax an’ spread open, I’ve got jus’ the thing for ye…”  
  
Juice eagerly obeyed, panting heavily as his body seemed to react like an animal in heat. He needed to get spanked, needed to come, just needed his _Daddy_ desperately. He could hear Daddy open a bottle of what surely was lube and Juice spread wider, feeling like a slut but the very slight pang of shame only spurred his lust on. Daddy made a pleased hum.  
  
“Tha’s a good lad, spreading so nicely for Daddy. Are ye ready, lovey?”  
”God, yes, Daddy.”  
”If ye’re feeling even the slightest discomfort, ye’ve gotta tell me. I expect ye to obey me, Juice.”  
“Yes, Daddy. I’ll be a good boy, I promise.”  
”Ye want me to tell ye exactly wha’ I’m doing, lovey?”  
“No, Daddy. I trust you.”  
  
He was almost half out of his mind from want now and the feeling of not Daddy’s finger, but a string of thin, lubed beads, slowly slipping their way into his ass, was almost maddening.  
  
“Ye’re alright, lad?”  
“Yes, Daddy. _God yes_ , p-please, it feels so g-good… Please, don’t stop, Daddy...”  
  
His body felt whole. _He_ felt whole, in a way Juice hadn’t in a very long time and despite the diaper, he didn’t feel _little_ one bit. Fragile, yes, but not exposed or confused. Daddy held him, Daddy who in this moment was his _lover_ , not his guardian or caregiver, but his top.  
  
The beads slid perfectly back and forth, the pressure from Daddy’s thigh onto his cock was as sweet as ever and the stinging backside practically singing as Juice’s entire body squirmed in ecstasy.  
  
  
**Ronea**  
Respecting mealtimes was extremely important in this house, but Ronea sipped on his coffee, indulging in some weed while hearing the muffled sounds a hall and one closed door away. He smiled at the cries, that weren’t fearful or anxious, but laced by something his young lover hadn’t had in a long time: lust.   
  
The stack of crumpets could grow cold for all the homemaker cared, because hearing Juice finally able to settle in himself again, was the sweetest start of a morning Ronea could imagine. He wasn’t jealous. Normally, the sexual parts of their relationship with Juice, were with all three of them together, but today his baby boy had needed his Daddy more and Ronea understood why.  
  
Filip Telford was the anchor that never tried to drag you down or lock you up. He was patient and calm, figuratively keeping you steady and floating, never allowing anything or anyone to drag you down or drift away.  
  
Ronea sighed and finished his joint. Step by step, Filip had lead him from abuse, self-destructiveness, self-hatred and fear, to freedom. Of course, some wounds never fully healed, but Ronea had accepted that a long time ago and with the right kind of acceptance, he’d learned, came power. He never felt as strong as when he obeyed, knowing it was a strenght his husband didn’t possess. Filip didn’t have that particular kind of power over himself, to be submissive and thrive.  
  
It was a strange marriage, or at least very unusual, but over the years, as it had chiseled out from everyday life and companionship, it had turned out to something beautiful. To obey required a different sort of strenght that had a lot to do with trust. There was freedom on Ronea’s obedience, a  lot more than most people would be able to understand. To say _I give you the final decision over my life_ to someone else, meant you trusted that person to treat you better than you’d be able to yourself. Being in charge over someone you truly loved, meant to take on a burden because you committed yourself to be responsible for not just yourself, but another person.  
  
Filip ruled with love and nothing but love. Ever since the beginning of their relationship, he’d been completely unaffected by how a man, especially one with Harleys and leather, was expected to act in the eyes of society.  
  
He’d been the first openly gay person in his club, softening an initially quite conservative environment by letting his actions and skills speak for themselves, something that quickly had earned him John Teller’s respect. Introducing Ronea had been easier than any of them expected. Tig already used to get some dick on the side without people caring much, but bringing a goth looking 21-year-old who hid his fear with sass and make-up to club parties was something else.  
  
Still, especially John Teller’s respect for the young Scot with the grim scars had been profunded from the very beginning and Ronea remembered the long since dead club founder with gratitude and fondness. They’d never gotten to know each other for real, the nasty road accident took John Teller away far too early, and Clay Morrow, the co-founder and man to take over as pres, hadn’t exactly disliked Ronea, but he was more conservative in this matter and it was only out of respect for John and Filip, that Ronea was accepted.  
  
The muffled sounds from the livingroom were different now, meaning Filip was comforting Juice and Ronea smiled, stubbing the joint out and went to take the soycream and blueberries out from the fridge. His boys were probably hungry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, my "short porno" rebelled against me like 100 chapters ago when "Well, I wear this fuckin’ mask because you cannot handle me" decided that a porn crackpairing wasn't enough. 
> 
> I'm amazed with the commitment you've shown this series and this VERY slow story *hugging y'all really hard* and yes, I will make a part three that could either start today or in a week, I really don't plan my fics at all. I just... write what I feel like, basically, and pray my muse doesn't abandon me.
> 
> I know this part ends in a bit of a middle, where only small changes have occurred, but that's how some healing works and I figured it'd be better to stop this part here and gather up for part 3 instead. This one has been focused on handling the now and Juice's instant needs in his illness, while next part will be more about their relationship going forward - at least that's the plan.
> 
> *kisses and hugs to y'all*


End file.
